


Smooth Criminal

by indiefic, Tangofic



Series: Smooth Criminal Series [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: All Human, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4448648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangofic/pseuds/Tangofic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  All human. Buffy is the high school princess.  Angel is the high school bad boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Buffy stared down at the little, blinking light.  “Check Oil” flashed off and on, as if mocking her.  It had only been on for a few days.  Okay, weeks maybe.  What was she, a mechanic?  How was she supposed to know that it meant the car would stop working?  And it just figured that her cell phone was dead.  Maybe she shouldn’t have given Cordelia a play by play commentary of every single purchase she made.

With a growl, she smacked the steering wheel.  At least she was close to town.  She’d spent all day shopping in L.A. and had almost made it home to Sunnydale.  Almost.  Now she was broke down on the side of the road on the outskirts of town, right in the middle of the slums.  She could see two separate trailer parks and a bar from where she was.  None of them looked even remotely appealing this late at night.  Though honestly, they wouldn’t look much better at high noon. Maybe she could just walk back to town.

Walking was easier said than done.  The shoes were certain to turn Cordelia green with envy, but they weren’t much good for walking in the loose gravel next to the highway.  She cursed, stumbling for what felt like the thousandth time.  Her skirt was fashionably short and the last thing she needed was to take a spill and end up with skinned knees, especially with the Halloween dance only a couple weeks away.  She forced herself to go slower and watch her footing.  The walk into Sunnydale was looking longer by the minute.

She heard a low rumbling noise and turned around to look behind her.  With a scream, she managed to skitter down into the ditch in time to avoid being hit by the obnoxiously loud pickup truck.  She heard catcalls and whistles as it zoomed by.  Picking herself up out of the mucky ditch, she saw the truck’s brake lights.  They were coming back.  She screamed again, running as fast as she could towards the sketchy little bar down the road.

As soon as she pushed through the door, she knew she made a mistake.  The bar’s occupants looked every bit as undesirable as the animals chasing her in that truck.  Self-consciously, she tried to smooth out her appearance.  One of the heels had broken off her shoe and she had lost at least two buttons off her shirt.  There were twigs and gravel in her hair and she was certain she looked filthy.  Both knees were skinned and aching, along with her palms from where she caught herself.

Slowly, Buffy limped over to the pay phone in the corner, all too aware that every set of eyes in the room was riveted on her.  She reached for her purse and almost burst into tears.  She had left it in the car.  She didn’t even have change to call her dad.  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to be calm.  Falling apart wouldn’t solve anything.  She held her head up as she turned around.  Addressing the room, she asked, “Can any of you spare some change?”

One guy stood up and sauntered over to her.  Buffy couldn’t tell if he thought he was being sexy or if one leg was significantly shorter than the other.  Either way, it was a bad deal.  His face looked like those fruit rollup things she used to eat as a kid and he had about three teeth.

“How’re you plannin’ ta pay me back?” he asked, chewing on a wad of tobacco.

Buffy cringed, plastering her back against the wall in an attempt to get away from him.

“Murray, leave her alone.”

Buffy glanced over and saw the bartender watching them, but immediately turned her gaze back to Murray.  She wasn’t about to let him out of her sight.  He stepped closer.

“Murray!” the bartender bellowed.  Murray turned to look.  Buffy watched as the bartender pulled out a baseball bat and set it conspicuously on the bar.  “I said, leave her alone.”

Murray scowled, but retreated slowly.  Buffy took a deep breath, all too aware of how badly she was shaking.  She turned to face the bartender once again and realized he looked vaguely familiar.  She watched as he put the bat away and pulled out a telephone, motioning for her to come up to the bar.  She did so, very hesitantly, her gaze skittering around the room.

She levered herself onto one of the grimy, duct tape covered barstools, wincing as she put pressure on her hands.  Picking up the receiver, she dialed home.  Biting down on her lip, she waited.  The phone rang and rang, with no answer.  Reluctantly, she hung up and tried Cordelia’s number.  It too rang endlessly.

Tears were welling in her eyes as she finally put the receiver down.  She didn’t know what to do.  She had no one else to call.

“Buffy, right?”

Buffy lifted her gaze and looked at the bartender.  He was tall and lean with spiky black hair.  He was wearing the standard wrong-side-of-the-tracks uniform of a white wifebeater and stained jeans.  The tank top emphasized his deeply muscled shoulders, along with the myriad of tattoos covering most of his arms.  He had a chain-link dog collar around his neck.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember his name.  Oh gods, it was something really strange and kinda girlie.  “Uh ... Butterfly?” she said lamely.

He cocked an eyebrow, obviously unimpressed.  He pointed to his left shoulder, to the intricate tattoo.  “Angel,” he said firmly.

She winced.  “Yeah, right. Sorry, Angel.”  She tried to think of something to say.  Anything.  “You’re in my chemistry class, right?”

“English,” he corrected.

She smiled tightly.  Dammit.  She really didn’t want to be making chitchat with some thug.  She was glad that he chased off the mouth-breather, but she really wasn’t into giving out favors.  Besides, he looked like the kind of guy who thought a romantic date was a carton of Generic Ultra-Lights, some Slim Jims and a twelve pack of Pabst.  Just because they had a class together didn’t mean they were friends.

Oh gods.  What if he didn’t want to be friends?  What if he was going to try and corner her and attack her?  She wasn’t certain, but she had vague recollections that he was in trouble a lot.  She was pretty sure he was the kid who beat Riley Finn unconscious freshman year.  What had she gotten herself into?

“She drinkin’?”

Buffy turned and saw a big guy step behind the bar.  He was staring at her with undisguised animosity.  Buffy paled.  He was huge.  His neck had to be as big around as her waist.  His hair was clipped short, graying at the temples and he was wearing a Harley-Davidson t-shirt that showed off his enormous arms.  “I’m just using the telephone,” she squeaked.

“This ain’t a goddamn shelter,” he snapped.  “You want to use the phone, there’s a payphone in the corner.”

“She’s fine,” Angel said smoothly, turning his gaze to the big guy.

“Don’t you try and fuckin’ tell me how to run my own goddamn bar, you little shit,” the guy snapped.

“She’s fine,” Angel repeated firmly.  “She’s just leaving.”

The big guy didn’t look convinced, but he snorted and turned away.  Buffy watched as he made his way over to a table where a bunch of bikers were playing poker.

“That your boss?” she asked.

“Nah,” Angel replied, absently drying a beer mug.

“Thank gods,” she said, “he seems like a real jerk.”

“He’s my dad.”

Buffy stared blankly at Angel.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean ...”

Angel held up his hand.  “Don’t worry about it,” he said.  “Your first impression was right on.  He’s a total asshole.”

She smiled pathetically and then looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

“Nobody home, I guess,” Angel offered.

Buffy shook her head, trying not to cry.

“I get off in twenty minutes,” he said.  “I can drop you by your house.”

Looking up, Buffy bit down on her bottom lip.  “I’m not sure ... “ she trailed off.

“What?” he asked.  “You don’t want to get in a car with a strange, tattooed guy who may or may not go to school with you?”

Buffy swallowed thickly.  “I’ve seen The Accused,” she said.

Angel looked around the bar and then leaned in conspiratorially.  “We don’t have any pinball machines,” he said seriously.  “I could try and rape you on the fooze ball table, but I’m not sure about the logistics.”

Buffy frowned at him, but he smiled unrepentantly.

He slapped the dishtowel over his shoulder as he picked up the phone and dialed.  “Oz.  Yeah, man, is Willow still over there?  Cool.  Can you guys swing by the bar?  Yeah.  See ya in a few.”

He hung up the phone.  “The chaperones are on their way,” he said.  “I could still go ahead and rape you in Oz’s van with an audience, but every now and then I get performance anxiety, so you’re probably safe.”

“Funny,” she said, dead pan.

“I’m a funny guy,” he replied, just as serious.

Angel took a glass off one of the shelves behind the bar and filled it with soda.  He set it in front of Buffy.  “It’s diet,” he said when she frowned.

With a sigh, Buffy took the glass, wincing when she picked it up.  Absently, Angel touched her hand, looking at the scrapes with detachment.  He bent down behind the bar and came back up with a little first-aid kit.

Buffy almost had her first band-aid on her knuckle when the thug…er…Angel took it out of her hands and finished the job.  He shook his head at her as he peeled off the crooked bandage and put it on again neatly.  She started to protest but closed her mouth again as she watched him work with the items in the first aid kit with deft, yet gentle efficiency.  While he worked, she looked up at his face.  For the first time, she really saw him.

He had generous mouth with full lips that seemed decadent and sensual all of a sudden.  Sharp features accentuated a sort of male beauty she really couldn’t believe existed before she got a closer look at him.  He was eighteen and miraculously still in school; obviously a loser by the way he dressed and where he lived, but the touch of his hands on her skin made her forget what it was about him she thought unattractive before.

She was shocked when he came around the bar and cleaned her knees out with antiseptic too.  He seemed to take the catcalls and whoops from the male audience in stride, nearly pretending they weren’t there.

“He-ey,” a chipper female voice said lightly from behind her.  Buffy jumped, turning away from Angel quickly.  She swiveled on the crooked stool to see two teenagers walk into the bar.  She recognized the redheaded girl as being one of the nerd herd.  She always seemed pleasant in a softer-side-of-Sears sort of way, but harmless.  The guy, who she knew to be Oz, was expressionless.  She smiled weakly in recognition.  Oz was a musician, but forgiving that, he was fairly popular and rarely in trouble.  For the first time since she left her car, she thought she might just make it home safely.

“Angel, you ready?” Oz said, tightening his grip on Willow’s hand and looking around.  “Will hates this place.”  Willow nodded nervously, darting her eyes around.

“Fuck, _I_  hate this place,” Angel said under his breath.  “Hey Pop,” Angel said, shouting across the bar, “I’m gone.”

Without waiting for an answer, Angel tossed his towel under the counter, grabbed a black shirt from behind the bar and slipped it on.  He waited patiently for Buffy to painfully limp to the door.

* * *

 

The next morning, Buffy took a cab out to her car in broad daylight to assess the damage.  She was sure that her father would somehow make this her fault, as if she were irresponsible because she ignored that irritating little light.  Wasn’t it like a warning anyway?  Shouldn’t there be another really serious light to let her know the car was going to stop moving?

She hopped out of the cab and asked him to wait when she saw that someone had his head stuck under her car.  Someone with an extremely firm ass and a muscular tanned back.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was Angel.  What she couldn’t figure out was why he was going to the trouble of trying to fix it.

“Your spark plugs are shot and it looks like you haven’t had an oil change since 1953, Buffy,” Angel said without looking up or turning around.  He continued to dig around under the hood for a few minutes and then grabbed his white wifebeater to wipe his hands on.  He looked at her sternly.

“The car is a 2000, Angel,” she said dryly.  “And I’ve had an oil change.”

“Oh yeah?” he taunted.  “When?”

“When I ruined my Todd Oldham original,” she explained patiently as if he knew what that meant.  He stared blankly at her.  With a huff, she added, “Oldham went out freshman year.  Do the math.”

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.  Buffy couldn't help but notice just how nice his arms looked.  And his chest.  She really loved the way his shoulders were so cut that you could see every bit of muscle definition down his entire arm.  And his hands.  Damn, he even had nice hands.  Sure, they were a little dirty at the moment, but the hands - definitely of the good.  It was half a minute before she realized he had said something.  "Huh?"

"I said it's not going to start," he repeated.  "You're going to have to have it towed into a shop."

Buffy bit down on her bottom lip.  Her dad was going to freak so hard when he found out she killed her car.  "Is it going to be expensive?" she asked.

"For a new engine when you've clearly voided the warranty, nah," Angel said.  "Ten or fifteen bucks?"

Buffy perked up instantly.  "Really?"

"No," he said dryly.  "It'll probably cost you about five grand to have it replaced."

She looked at him like someone had just run over her puppy and Angel muttered under his breath, looking back at the car for a moment.  "If you could find someone to rebuild the engine, it would be cheaper."

"Are there people that do that?" she asked, tentatively hopeful.

"Yes."

"Like who?"

"Me."

Buffy looked at him warily.  His humor was so dry that she had no idea if he was telling the truth or not.  "I thought you worked in the bar."

"My dad owns the bar," he said.  "I help out sometimes.  My real job is at Sunnydale Autobody."

"So you really could fix it?"

"Maybe."

"What's the catch?"

Angel smiled.  "You have to help me."

Buffy stared at him for a moment.  Thoughts of Ghost popped unbidden into her mind.  Only instead of Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze with the pottery, she had visions of Angel and herself putting in a car part.  It really didn't matter what part.  What mattered was that she was leaning over the hood of the car and he was behind her, wrapped around her, with no shirt on.  You could see his muscles flexing as he reached for  -  Buffy shook her head.  "S-s-sure I could help," she said.

* * *

 

On Monday, Buffy told all of her friends about the scary event, including every single detail, but stopped with the parts about Angel, who she referred to as “the bartender.”  She left out the parts about Willow and Oz, her visit to the car the next day and Angel’s offer to help.  She had no intention of telling them that she was going to spend her evening under the hood of a car with a grease monkey.  She could already see Cordelia’s nose in the air and her look of disdain.

She hoped it wouldn’t take long.  She wanted to give herself a manicure tonight.  Thankfully, her father hadn’t said anything about the absence of her car yet, but she had to tell him eventually.  Maybe the rebuilding of an engine would take just long enough for her to get home after he was already in bed.

She walked to Sunnydale Autobody, wishing she had told Cordy.  At least then she could’ve gotten a ride.  Her shoes, brand new Prada, were too precious to waste on a long walk and damned uncomfortable.  But they went well with the new Gucci outfit she’d picked up in Los Angeles.

When she arrived, a large man covered in grease and reeking of cigarettes blocked her path.  He wore a shirt that boasted his name was “Bud.”  “Can I help you, miss?” he asked, chomping on a wad of gum.

“I’m here to see Angel,” she said, peeking around the man into the dark garage.

“Angel!” he shouted over his shoulder, “got a purty lil thing out here waiting for ya.”  Angel came out in a gray uniform shirt that was much cleaner than the other guy’s, but still streaked with grease.  He had a smear of oil or something on his cheek.  He was so damn sexy, she thought her legs were going to give out from under her.

“Thanks, Bud,” Angel said, nodding at the man who stood before her, but Bud didn’t look like he had any intention of leaving them alone.  Instead, the man’s blue eyes were focused on the low cut Gucci top she wore.  “Hey Buffy,” Angel nodded. “You’re late.”

“Well, I had to walk in heels,” she answered.  “Besides, Cordy and I were talking.”

“You can’t have a date here,” Bud said, tearing his eyes off her breasts to look at Angel.  “You have to work.”

“She’s my new assistant,” Angel answered grinning at his friend.  “Come on, Buffy.  You need to get changed.”

“Changed?” she asked.  She trotted after him in her high heels when he turned into the garage, stepping over the tools that stood in her path.

“Unless you want to get oil on your expensive clothes, I’d say it’s a good idea.”

“But…” she said, biting her lip.  “When said you wanted me to help, I thought you really meant that I would be watching you work and like, handing you tools and stuff.”

“Um, no,” he laughed.  “But thanks for playing.  You’re going to get dirt under your nails today.”  He ignored her gasp of disgust and went to the back office where there were a couple of lockers, a desk and a cot.  She followed him in and watched as he dug around in a bag and pulled out a black wifebeater and a pair of sweatpants.  He tossed them to her.  “I was going to go lift weights after school but decided to take the engine out of your car instead.  Put those on.”

“Are they clean?” she asked, sniffing them delicately.

Angel turned back to her before he walked out of the office.  Smirking, he said, “Nope.”

* * *

 

Buffy couldn’t believe she was doing this as she carefully folded her shirt and looked at the tanktop.  One day, she kept telling herself.  One day of this.  Tomorrow, she would bring her own clothes.  Actually, she was hoping that by tomorrow he would realize how bad she was at this and change his mind about her helping.  Yep.  That was the ticket.

Scrunching up her nose, she pulled the tanktop over her head.

* * *

 

Angel had his head buried under the hood when she finally exited the office.  He heard her walk up behind him and said over his shoulder, “Hand me that nine-sixteenths.”

“The what?”

Angel scrunched his eyes shut in exasperation.  Why was he doing this?  Did his life not suck enough that he had to go out of his way to find new and exciting methods of torturing himself?  Buffy was a princess.  She would always be a princess.  Yes, she had potential, but it was buried under so many layers of designer clothes and “I’m a blonde” giggles that he had no real hope of ever reaching it.

He knew when he spoke to her that there was more to her than the rest of the snooty airheads she called friends.  Buffy had substance, hidden though it might be.  For some reason, he felt compelled to try and bring it out of her.  For whatever misguided reason, he felt like if he could expose her to different ways of life, show her that she was capable of being more than just a trophy wife, that it would somehow make them both better people.  Sighing, he pushed himself out from under the hood and turned to face her.

His jaw didn’t actually drop open.  And really, he deserved credit for that.

This also called to mind the other reason why Angel had been so amenable to helping Buffy – she was without a doubt the most beautiful female he had ever seen.  He stood there, staring at her like a moron whose brain had short-circuited.  Actually that wasn’t so much of a simile.  It was quite possible his brain had stopped functioning.  Now if other parts of his body would just get the memo.

He coughed dropping his hands in front of his crotch, hoping she wouldn’t notice the ever-increasing bulge.  “Buffy ... I ... uh ... “  he sighed again.  “Where ... exactly ... is the rest of the outfit?”

She looked down at herself and shrugged.  She was wearing nothing but the black wifebeater, which hit her just above the knee, and her new Prada heels.  “The pants were too big,” she said matter-of-factly.  “They wouldn’t stay on.”

Actually, if she kept this up, the odds of his pants staying on were looking worse and worse.  He forced himself away from those thoughts.  He bent over and picked up the wrench in question and turned around quickly to face the exposed engine rather that let her see his arousal.  He waved it in the air for a second before using it.  “This is a nine-sixteenths.”

* * *

 

Hours later, Buffy was certain every single part of her body was covered in grime.  Thank goodness Angel had made her wear his tank top or her outfit would have been completely destroyed.  All she wanted was a long shower, followed by a long bath and food.

Angel, despite his looks, was nerdy and smart when it came to cars.  He also was making them put every single thing away before they could leave.  She whined for a few minutes and then went about helping him clean up.  She was proud of herself for actually doing something.  Besides, it was kinda fun.  Especially since Angel found every excuse he could to be close to her and touch her.

She dropped to her knees to pick up a tool lying near the front tire, still caught up in thoughts of why Angel sent shivers down her spine.  He was just a boy, after all, and she had lots of experience dealing with them.  They were like slobbering puppies that just needed the right brush off – or sometimes insult – to keep them from humping your leg.  But Angel wasn’t like that at all. Angel was something else entirely.

Buffy snuck a peek over her shoulder and blushed when she realized he was staring at her ass.  She turned back around quickly and scrambled to her feet, knowing her face was burning red.  What the hell had she been thinking?  He had a perfect view of her bare ass only covered by her little white thong.

Her face scrunched up in irritation with herself and Angel as she marched over to the toolbox and dropped the tool in it with a loud clang.  She started to turn around to scan the garage for the rest of the tools, when she was spun against a hard, muscular chest.  Without speaking, he dipped down and nibbled at her lips.  He licked the seam of her mouth, begging entrance and with a little sigh, she threaded her fingers through his hair and tentatively touched her tongue against his.

Excitement scorched through her body as her tongue tangled wetly with Angel's.  She'd had a few guys try and kiss her like this, Percy and Riley being the two most memorable.  Both of those kisses had been enough to almost make her swear off men.  They were disgusting, wet slobbery affairs that tasted like leftover cafeteria food.  And those kisses had absolutely nothing in common with what she was currently sharing with Angel.

She let out a little moan, pressing herself tighter against him.   Angel took full advantage of the situation.  He cupped his hands around her ass and lifted her off the ground.  He took a few steps, setting her on top of a waist-high tool chest.  Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist as their kisses grew more frantic.  One of Angel's hands cupped a breast and she made a tiny, helpless sound, arching into his touch.  With a groan, he broke off the kiss.  He was breathing hard, his body inflamed to a near fever pitch.  Damn he wanted her.  He wanted to slip off her lacy little thong and take her right here on top of this tool chest.  It was one thing to do something like that with the loose women that frequented his father's bar.  It was quite another to try it with the prom queen.

Finally under control, he looked down at her.  Her lips were wet and swollen, her face flushed and she was trembling.  "You're cold," he said absently.  Carefully he extricated himself from her embrace.  Impatiently, he grabbed his jacket off one of the hooks mounted to the wall and wrapped it around her shoulders.  She was swimming in the black leather, but it looked damn good.

She swallowed thickly.  "Thanks," she said, still somewhat breathless.

"Get your stuff," he said.  "I'll drive you home."

* * *

 

Buffy pressed her face to the center of Angel's back, holding on tightly as they roared through town on his motorcycle.  If anyone saw them, her social life would be ruined.  Of course, who would believe it?  Buffy Giles riding around on the back of Angel the loser's bike.  She probably wouldn't have much trouble playing it off.

He roared into her driveway and cut off the engine before reaching down and pulling the plastic bag with her clothes out of the black leather saddlebag.  She was thankful that none of her friends lived on the same street as she.  Carefully, she swung her leg over and stood on her two own feet.  She was wobbly and not entirely certain if it had to do with the motorcycle or just Angel.  She was pretty sure it was the latter.

Angel gripped her bag of clothes and entwined his fingers with his other hand.  Then, much to her utter shock, he walked her to her front door.  Half of her dates didn’t even do that.  She was already learning there was more to Angel that met the eye.  She turned to face him on the front porch and licked her lips nervously, unsure of what to expect.

“I’ll return your jacket and shirt tomorrow,” she said, gesturing at her odd attire.  His lips curved up slowly, in the sexiest little half smile and shook his head.  “They look better on you.”  He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, just barely giving her a taste of him.

“See you tomorrow, Buffy.”  His voice was husky and soft.  Bedroom soft.  Hot, sweaty lover soft.  And her knees trembled.

“Oh boy,” she whispered as she watched him stroll back to his bike. 

 

END CHAPTER


	2. Chapter 2

The following day when she got up for school, she was slightly afraid that her friends would see on her face that she was not at all the same as she was yesterday. She was a woman who had been completely and thoroughly kissed – while half naked – by the high school loser and bad boy. She was also worried that Angel would actually come up to her and try to speak to her in front of one of her friends. Groping in the garage was one thing, but the hallowed halls of Sunnydale High were another matter entirely.

She held her breath the first time she saw him, in second period English and was shocked, thankful and a little hurt that he didn’t even glance in her direction. In fact, it was as if he hadn’t been making out with her the night before. She certainly didn’t want him to openly acknowledge her, especially since Harmony was also in that class, but a sly glance, maybe a wink would have been something.

For someone she never noticed before, now she saw him everywhere. It seemed like their paths crossed constantly and every time she even thought she saw a tall, broad shouldered guy, her stomach did a little flip flop.

After lunch, she was leaving the restroom alone when a strong arm wrapped around her waist and a hand went over her mouth. She kicked and tried to scream, but no one noticed her disappearing into the supply closet right across the hall. Once inside the closet, she bucked and kicked more, and found she was overpowered.

“Shhh. It’s Angel.”

“Angel,” she whispered harshly. “What the hell are you doing?”

“This,” he whispered back and covered her lips with his own. She opened for him immediately, exploring his mouth with her tongue. Her passion, along with her pressing her body so closely against his, caused him to moan. He slithered his hand under her designer shirt and cupped one of her breasts over the lacy bra she wore. Just feeling how little there was of it made his body heat up. He had no doubt that feeling up the prom queen in a supply closet was every boy’s dream in their school. As his other hand squeezed her firm ass, he felt her arms tightened around him even more.

When the kiss finally ended and they were both breathless, neither knew how much time had passed or even what class they were missing. Angel knew he was on the brink of making her miss the rest of her classes. He wanted more than anything to wrap her legs around him like they had been last night and plunge into her hot, silky depths.

“You should get to class,” he whispered, kissing her mouth again lightly and sifting his fingers through her silky hair.

“Class?” she echoed dazedly. “Right. Class. Yeah, I should…go there.”

* * *

 

“Miss Giles, how nice of you to join us,” Mr. Norton intoned dryly as Buffy tried to slip into her math class.

She winced, blushing as she took a seat next to Cordelia. “Girl problems,” she said quickly.

In pure typical male fashion, Mr. Norton quickly dropped the subject, pretending Buffy didn’t exist. She sighed in relief. Perhaps she’d manage to get through this without her math teacher mentioning her absence to her father. It was one of many pitfalls of having a parent employed at her school.

“Where were you?” Cordy asked.

“Bathroom,” Buffy said truthfully. It had taken her a good twenty minutes to make herself presentable again after her mutual molestations with Angel. As it was, her lips were still swollen and she looked flushed despite expert application of Chanel’s newest line of blusher. “Some mouth-breather bumped into me at lunch and spilled nacho cheese on my sandals.”

“How horrible,” Harmony said seriously, leaning in closer.

“I think they’ll be fine,” Buffy said self-consciously, tucking her feet under her chair.

Cordelia frowned at both of them. “We have to meet at the Bronze tonight,” she said. “We need a serious game plan for the dance.”

Buffy winced. She was supposed to help Angel again. “I can’t,” she said.

Cordelia’s expression could have frozen ice. “You have more important plans?”

“The new Vogue came out today,” she said plainly.

“Oh,” Cordy and Harmony said in unison, as if it made perfect sense. And sadly, it did.

“Well, maybe we should postpone,” Cordy said, trying to sound offhand. Truth was Cordy wouldn’t run the risk of Buffy showing up at school tomorrow having received the newest missive from the fashion gods a day ahead of her.

“Sounds like a plan,” Buffy said, now realizing she’d have to stay up half the night reading that damn magazine.

“But we need to discuss dates,” Harmony whined.

Buffy looked at her sadly. Harmony had always been infinitely more interested in boys than fashion, something both she and Cordelia viewed as a fault. “You’re going with Daryl, right? What’s to discuss?”

“Well .. “ Harmony trailed off. “What about you two? Cordy, are you still going with Devon? And Buffy, I saw you talking to that guitarist, Oz, at lunch. You two aren’t an item, are you?”

“As if,” Cordelia replied for Buffy. “Buffy was so picky she turned down Percy, who has the three B’s : bod, bank and beamer. Do you seriously think Choosey gal is going to go for a musician?”

Buffy shook her head. Her pickiness when it came to guys was legendary. “Oz is just ... “ She couldn’t say ‘a friend’. “Helping me with my computer project. Besides, I’m fairly sure he’s dating Willow Rosenberg.”

“Ugh,” Cordy derided. “Why would anybody ruin their cool factor by being seen with that loser?”

Buffy was saved by the bell. She really didn’t want to say anything bad about Willow. She seemed like such a nice girl. But Buffy doubted that Cordelia would allow her to remain neutral on the subject.

* * *

 

“Uh, thanks again for the ride,” Buffy said, hopping out of Oz’s van. She was quite relieved that she didn’t have to walk to the shop today, but if anybody saw her with Oz, she wasn’t sure how far the homework fib would stretch.

Buffy hurried inside the garage to ensure she wouldn’t be seen. She sent a curt nod in Bud’s direction before heading to the back office. As she reached the door, she heard voices. Naturally, she stopped to eavesdrop before she bothered to knock. The sound of Angel’s voice in concert with a feminine drawl made her skin crawl.

“Angel,” the blonde purred, “You can play hooky tonight. Come and play.”

“Look, I told you I can’t take off work whenever you want to hook up,” Angel said, brushing her hand away from his crotch. “I’ve got work to do.”

When she didn’t recognize the woman’s voice, she turned the doorknob ever so slowly and peeked inside. Angel was practically pressed against the wall and some skanky blonde was rubbing her tits all over him! She didn’t look familiar. She was older than them by at least five years. She probably had an old shoe full of neglected children. A feminine snarl escaped Buffy’s mouth.

Before she even really made a decision, she was opening the door and strolling inside. Angel’s mouth dropped at her approach and he shifted away from the girl guiltily. “Hi, baby,” Buffy crooned. She was so glad she had worn her “skinny” outfit that day. She was feeling fresh, chic and beautiful. She was sure it emanated from her as she approached Angel and kissed him full on the lips before smiling coldly at the girl.

“I’m Buffy,” she announced brightly, taking Angel’s hand in hers. She fought the urge to frown when she saw his visitor’s face. She was actually beautiful, much more beautiful than should be allowed.

“Darla,” she answered in a sultry voice. Buffy wanted to hit her but after close scrutiny, she saw that Darla’s slutty red dress was a DKNY knock off, her sexy come fuck me heels were totally last season and she obviously hadn’t had a proper manicure in  _months._

“I thought you had to work, Angel.” Her voice was cold as ice. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

“We do have to work,” Buffy said, trying to keep the sharpness out of her voice.

Darla tossed back her head and laughed out loud. “That’s priceless. You working here? What use could you possibly be to this garage? Do you cheer on the mechanics?”

“No,” Buffy answered. She lowered her lip in her cutest mock pout. “Angel lets me give him blow jobs. He says it makes him more productive.” Losing the act with a very unladylike snort, she headed for the door.

* * *

 

Bud poked his head around the corner. “Looks like she’s gone, darlin’,” he said with a wink.

Buffy smiled. She actually liked Bud. It helped that Bud really didn’t like Darla. “Thanks,” she replied, giving him her cutest smile. “Does, she, uh, stop by here much?” she asked coyly.

“Darla?” Bud snorted. “She’s like a cat in heat. She comes sniffin’ around whenever her old man’s outta town.”

Buffy frowned. “Is that often?”

Bud seemed to consider this for a moment. “Coupla times a month,” he said. He leaned in closer, “But Angel doesn’t have a brain in his head if he’d choose that harpy over a sweet little thing like you.”

When Buffy exited the office fifteen minutes later, Angel’s expression was one of barely contained amusement. He looked her outfit up and down approvingly before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning one hip against her car. “Kitten has some claws,” he said with a smirk.

Buffy shrugged, tossing her hair over one shoulder. The outfit she had chosen for working on the car wasn’t terribly functional, but it looked damn good. The see-through black microfiber tanktop was from the soon to be released Sean John women’s spring couture collection. She’d had to lean hard on her Macy’s connection to get it. The Segio Valente low rise jeans she had been intending to save for the mandatory trick-or-treating supervision Snyder signed her up for, but drastic times called for drastic measures.

Buffy sauntered over to the tool chest, putting a hefty swing in her hips. The tanktop and jeans didn’t meet, leaving an expanse of taut, sun-kissed skin bare to his eyes. Just as she had planned, Angel’s attention was riveted on her. Very conspicuously, she picked up a wrench, idly stroking it with her perfectly manicured nails before gently returning it to its place. More sauntering and she was standing right in front of him.

He was trying hard to look unaffected, but she could hear him breathing far too hard. Looking up at him from beneath her lashes she said, “I really don’t know exactly what is going on between us, but I do know that I don’t share.”

He took a deep breath, licking his lips before he spoke. “That makes two of us, I guess.” He pushed away from the car, circling around her. She turned as he moved, following his motion with her body. He situated himself so that she was between him and the car. Leaning forward, he braced both of his hands against the car, trapping her.

Rather than being intimidated, Buffy smiled wickedly at him. He was wearing his standard work clothing, a pair of stained grey coveralls. Reaching out, Buffy grasped the coverall’s zipper between her fingers and pulled it all the way down. Her knuckles barely grazed against his crotch and she heard his sharp intake of breath. She spread the halves of the coverall wide and raked her fingernails over his wifebeater.

He leaned in closer, pressing his lips against her temple. He rumbled her name against her hair. She boldly pulled up the front of his shirt. When his muscled chest and stomach were bared to her eyes she gave a tiny mewl of delight before sliding her hands over his skin. Angel threaded his fingers through her hair and captured her mouth in a possessive kiss. He wanted to take his time, but found he had no patience whatsoever and she, responding in kind, immediately parted her lips to tangle her tongue with his.

Unlike her usual encounters with the male species, Buffy didn’t think about her makeup being smudged, her hair rumpled or even his mechanic hands roaming her body – which were becoming more adventurous by the second. It didn’t occur to her to be the incredibly picky girl she had always been, choosing a man that matched her shoes and handbag like an accessory. Angel didn’t glide smoothly into her world. In fact, he didn’t fit in it at all, but when he touched her, she forgot who she was supposed to be.

A liquid swirling started in her belly. She clenched with desire, gasping his named against his mouth when he lifted her onto the hood of her car. She wrapped her legs around him and her eyes widened in surprise when felt his arousal jutting against her through both of their clothing.

Her previous sloppy and otherwise forgettable kisses with other boys hadn’t included anything like this. They wouldn’t have dared touch her like this. Buffy would have not allowed some meaty paw ruining her well-planned outfit or rumpling her carefully arranged hair. She would have turned in disgust from some other raging hormonal ball of trouble pressing himself against her.

“Oh Gods,” she gasped in pleasure when he abandoned her mouth to nip and lick her neck. Instead of backing off, he pressed closer, grinding against her as he peeled her tank top up and feasted his eyes on her breasts. A warning flashed in his head but he didn’t stop, couldn’t. He did, however, force himself to slow down. Gently, he cupped her breasts in his hands and trailed his thumbs around her nipples lightly as he nipped at her mouth again.

“Angel,” she whined, wanting something, but not entirely sure what. He caressed her nipples lightly until they were so erect and tight, they hurt. She squeezed her legs around him and gripped his shoulders. As he lowered his head to her breast, he glanced up at her and met her eyes. He smiled at her broadly with pure, carnal male satisfaction before capturing one erect point between his teeth.

She hissed, her fingers threading through his hair, holding him to her. He suckled her, his tongue swirling around her nipple until she made these high, keening noises. His cock jumped in response. Damn, he wanted her. He’d had plenty of women, but none of them had ever come close to turning him on the way Buffy did. His hand abandoned her breast, tickling down her stomach to the fly of her jeans.

He popped the button and her breath caught as her entire body stilled. He looked up at her, his mouth still wrapped around her nipple.

She bit down on her bottom lip, looking at him with impossibly large eyes. “I, uh,” she stuttered. “I’ve never done ... uh, it before.”

Angel stared up at her for a long moment. Thoughts ricocheted through his mind. He hadn’t really thought about Buffy having sex with anyone else, but he sort of assumed she had. She was one of the beautiful people, after all. He’d heard stories about the drunken parties. He’d seen the steamed up windows of beamers and Porsches.

He released her nipple from his mouth and slowly retreated, crawling off her body. He backed up several paces until his back hit the garage wall. Slowly, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, never taking his eyes off her.

Self-consciously, Buffy tugged her tanktop down, pushing herself into a sitting position. She looked around the room, not meeting his gaze. “I didn’t mean to freak you out,” she huffed, but it didn’t hide the undercurrent of pain in her voice.

“No, Buffy,” he said, chastising himself for his insensitivity. He closed the distance between them, gently cupping her cheek. “I didn’t mean anything ... I just ... “ He growled, raking a hand through his hair.

She squared her shoulders, looking slightly mollified. “I assume you’ve ... “

“Uh ... yeah,” he admitted, not particularly proud of the fact. He was really hoping she didn’t want details. His first time had been when he was fourteen, with one of his dad’s girlfriends. He wasn’t going to share that information with Buffy, however, if he could possibly avoid it.

* * *

 

The next day at school, Buffy was trapped between being grumpy and floating on air. Angel was so sexy, confident and intelligent. How someone could be those things and still be so unpopular was beyond her. Judging from Darla, Buffy assumed Angel had made it a habit of sleeping with whoever crossed his path. He was a sexy package deal - fix your car and get your brains fucked out.

She went through the day in a frustrated daze. She didn’t even bother to read the latest issue of Vogue to defend herself from Cordelia’s monthly fashion grilling. At lunchtime, while trying to avoid her friends, she wandered into the library to look for her father and found him drowning in his card catalog. The school had tried to get him to trade in his antiquated card catalog system for a computer generated one, but they stepped back when he threatened to quit.

“Hi, Daddy,” she grumbled and slumped in one of the chairs.

“Be right with you,” he said, absently, not even noticing it was his daughter that had walked in. Buffy almost smiled at that. No one but her father could concentrate so intently on something so dreadfully boring. She smiled at his nerdy appearance, shaking her blonde head. Unlike some kids would be, she wasn’t embarrassed at all that her father was the school librarian. Besides, half the teachers and some of the students had a crush on him.

“Giles, here’s another one.”

Buffy looked over her shoulder in utter disbelief to see Angel strolling from out of the stacks with a book in his hand. He nearly dropped his book in shock to see her there but recovered quickly. He set the book on the counter on top of a short stack.

“Thank you, Angel.” Giles said, making a notation of the book on the list he was working on. He glanced up and smiled. “Buffy, do stop gaping,” he said, biting back the grin that was threatening to slip over his lips.

“What are you doing in here with my father?” Buffy demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

“It’s not like I broke into your house, Buffy,” Angel chuckled. “This is a school library. Any student can just walk right in whenever they want.”

“Since when?”

“Since always, my dear,” Giles said, cracking that grin after all. “Angel helps me three times a week over his lunch hour. Has for this whole semester and half of last.”

“Why?” Buffy demanded of Angel. He looked annoyingly sexy in a pair of worn jeans, his ever present wifebeater showing off those sexy arms and black leather dog collar. She should have been scandalized by what he was wearing or that she was having a conversation with this tattooed, future convict in front of her father of all people. Instead, she wanted to grab his hand and find the nearest closet. “Don’t you have enough jobs?”

“Detention originally,” Angel shrugged. He leaned casually against the table and crossed his arms.

“For a semester and half?” Buffy sputtered.

“Well, it has its pros and cons,” Angel laughed. “Your dad’s cool. He lets me work in here instead of sitting in a room. I can usually get my homework done in here. And,” he leaned in and whispered, “he trusts me.”

“Trusts you?” She narrowed his eyes at him. “What did you tell him?”

“Surely, you didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the absence of your car and you after school every night until late, did you, Buffy?” Giles asked. Casually, he pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned off his glasses. Holding them, up he looked for spots and began wiping them off again. “I understand Angel is rebuilding your engine since you neglected to have your oil changed.”

Buffy’s lips pursed together. “Oh, you heard about that?”

“Buffy,” Giles chastised, “I expect you to be more responsible in the future. We’re well off, but we most certainly cannot afford to be purchasing new cars. I don’t know what we’d do without Angel’s generosity.”

Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “ _Da- ad_ ,” she whined. He couldn’t really hold her responsible for this, could he? The possessive part of her was tempted to tell her father about her and Angel. She doubted that he would think Angel was so, well, angelic if he had any idea what he’d tried to do to her on the hood of said car.

The doors to the library swept open, cutting Buffy short. She turned around in time to see Cordelia and Riley enter. Her posture immediately stiffened, even though she knew there was no way they could have heard her talking to Angel.

“There you are,” Cordelia said, a grin plastered on her face. She ran over to Buffy and then turned to glare at Angel. “Don’t you have a parole hearing to attend or something?”

“I don’t know what everybody meant this morning in study hall,” Angel said, leaning in towards Cordelia. “I don’t think that dress makes you look like a hooker. Trash, yes, but a hooker? No. Whores have better taste in shoes.”

Buffy could barely restrain her laughter as she watched Angel finish shelving the stack of books. Cordelia fumed the whole time, but Angel pointedly ignored her. “See you later, Giles,” Angel called, exiting the library.

Buffy didn’t miss the fact that he and Riley were openly glaring at each other. Angel smirked and took a half stutter-step toward Riley. Riley immediately jumped backward and then flushed, angry at himself for letting Angel know he was afraid of him. Angel just smiled.

“Cretin,” Cordelia hissed as the doors swung shut.

* * *

 

Angel was already working on the car by the time Giles dropped Buffy at the shop. She walked around the car, seeing that he was on his back underneath it. She said his name, but only received a grunt in acknowledgement. Disheartened, Buffy went to the office to change.

He was still under the car when she returned. Today’s outfit was significantly more subdued. She wore one of her dad’s old undershirts that she knotted to reveal a hint of midriff, and a pair of old grey sweats.

Buffy braced her hands against the engine block and leaned forward until she found a space where she could see Angel’s eyes. He looked at her for several moments before sighing and pushing himself out from under the car. He looked up at her for a second, letting his eyes rake over her body. Even in rags, she was breathtakingly fucking gorgeous.

Without warning she straddled and kissed him deeply. She laid her head on his chest and sighed. “I don’t wanna fight, Angel,” she started, her words muffled.

“I don’t see how this is going to work,” Angel said, sitting up. Both of them climbed to their feet. Angel stared into her eyes for a second. He wanted her so badly he’d sell his soul for it. It was frightening. He knew the best thing for both of them would be to stay away. He should fix her car, pat her on the ass and let her go. Looking at her now, he knew he wouldn’t. “This is a disaster waiting to happen,” he grumbled, “but I can’t walk away.”

“Me either,” she said, stepped back into his arms with relief.

“We can keep this a secret if you want,” he said, “but if you think you’re going to the Halloween dance with Finn you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Angel,” Buffy whined, “I’m not going to  _do_  anything with him. It’s just for appearances. I wouldn’t let him drool on my shoe.”

“No fucking way,” Angel growled, clutching her more tightly to him. “If you go down the hallway with him, let alone a dance, I’ll beat him within an inch of his sorry life.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she exclaimed. “Go to the dance with you?”

“Why the hell not?” he shot back. “You afraid the Cordettes will kick you out of their club?”

“I’m not afraid of them,” she said boasted and then bit her lip. “You’d go?”

“To keep you away from going with another guy? Oh yeah,” he growled, capturing her lips and pulling her closer.

She kissed back, biting down gently on his bottom lip as she pressed her breasts against his chest. He made this delicious little growly noise in the back of his throat that made her insides go all wiggly.

Quite a while later, he finally pulled back, looking down at her. “Besides,” he said, resuming their earlier conversation, “I might have possibly already sort of been planning to go.”

Her brow furrowed. Then it hit her and she smacked him on the chest. “Dingoes are playing the dance.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? We’re cheap.”

Buffy shot him an exasperated look. “Well, then how are we supposed to go together? You’re going to be kind of busy.”

Frowning, Angel had to concede she had a point. “Fine,” he said, “we don’t have to go together. But you’re still not going with Finn and if I see him lay so much as a finger on you, I’ll jump off the stage and break his fucking neck.”

She smiled up at him goofily. “You like me,” she taunted.

Not in the least bit amused, he grabbed her hips, pulling her against him. His erection poked her in the stomach. “I’m a little past like,” he said.

* * *

 

“Oh, gods, not there. No! Wait. Lower. Lower. LOWER!” She smacked him on the shoulder. “Dammit, Angel!”

He grinned up at her unrepentantly. Before she could say anything more, he was off his knees and had her pinned against the wall between two large bookcases. His hand slid between her legs and he massaged her through the silky material of her panties. She moaned, arching against his hand as her fingernails bit into his shoulders.

“Is that low enough?” he whispered against her ear.

She shook her head frantically. All the concern she’d had earlier for her father possibly walking in on them was completely gone. Nothing existed save Angel and his infinitely talented lips and fingers. Taking a chance, he slipped his hand inside of her panties and pushed a finger inside her tight, wet heat. She was so luscious and slippery wet, that he groaned the same time she did.

“Gods, I want you,” he moaned, pulling one of her legs up his hip while he slid a second finger inside her and rubbed her clit slowly. She moaned in disbelief and pleasure when her legs went so wobbly and fire seemed to fill her veins. She dug her teeth into his shoulder, grinding her hips against his hand.

“Angel, please,” she muffled against his shoulder. She wasn’t quite sure what she was asking him to do, but she was begging for it before she exploded.

"Fuck," he hissed, dropping back to the floor, pulling her with him. She ended up on her back in the thankfully neglected stacks. Angel wasted no time levering his body over hers. Her legs automatically parted, wrapping around his hips as he ground against her, his mouth mauling hers. He abandoned her lips, kissing across her jaw and down her throat while one of his hands kneaded her breast.

He scooted down further, until his face was even with her waist. She moved restlessly, but didn't protest when he flipped her skirt up and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her panties. Dutifully, she lifted her hips so he could skim the material down her thighs. Angel wasted no time once she was bare. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and lowered his mouth to her glistening curls.

Buffy let out a silent scream, her back arching wildly as he parted her with his tongue, licking her languidly. Her heels bit into his back and one of her hands was fisted in his hair. She was mindless, whimpering and panting as he licked her slowly. He took his time, languorously stabbing his tongue inside her liquid body before circling back up and suckling her clit. With a cry, she came, bucking against him like a thing possessed.

When she finally returned to herself, Angel was lying on his side next to her, his hands playing lightly over her body. She looked up at him, dazed. His eyes still smoldered with passion and Buffy knew he hadn't found the same release as she. Propping herself up on one elbow, she reached for his studded leather belt. He complied immediately, rolling over onto his back as her fingers freed his belt and made short work of his fly. He hissed, arching into her touch as her hand wrapped around his aching, stiff cock.

She licked her lips nervously and met his eyes, silently conveying the message that she wasn’t sure exactly what to do. She had never seen a real one, much less touched one. A nervous flutter filled her belly as she brought her lips to the glistening head of his cock and licked softly at the pre-ejaculate there. Encouraged that he didn’t seem to think it was the wrong thing to do, she took him into her mouth and swirled her tongue around the tip.

His eyes were intense dark pools. She couldn’t help but blush as their eyes met. His hand gently sifted through her hair, encouraging, but not guiding her movements. She returned her attention to his pleasure, taking him farther into her mouth, suckling gently. He growled and his hips shifted on the floor. Obviously, she was doing something right. Emboldened by her apparent success, she took more of him. He almost purred. She began a slow, bobbing pattern, taking him as far as she could into her mouth and then retreating until he was almost free from her mouth. Her hand followed her lips, stroking him. Before long, he was making these adorable little helpless noises.

“Buffy,” he whimpered, “Buffy ... “ Trying to pull her away from him. “I’m going to – “ He sucked in his breath sharply, his body trembling as his seed spilled over her tongue.

 

END CHAPTER


	3. Chapter 3

Angel was standing, arms crossed over his chest, drum sticks clasped firmly in hand, with one hip cocked out slightly. His face could have been chiseled out of granite for all the warmth in his expression. “No,” he said darkly.

Devon was clearly unhappy, but it was also equally obvious that he wasn’t about to argue with Angel. Buffy waited until the Dingoes lead singer left and finally moved from her hiding spot near the back of the Bronze. Oz was sitting on one of the amps, restringing his guitar and some other guy with bleached blonde hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips that played bass was tinkering with the soundboard.

As Buffy approached, Angel turned toward her. All the coldness melted away and a wicked, lopsided grin lit his face. He stood where he was, waiting for her and when she got close enough, he tucked one finger through her belt loop and pulled her against his body. Eagerly, she lifted her face, kissing him enthusiastically. It was minutes before they pulled apart and Buffy couldn’t help but blush, knowing both Oz and the Billy Idol clone were getting a free show.

Angel seemed to be highly amused by her embarrassment. Buffy rolled her eyes at his smile, but snuggled closer against his chest. “I saw you talking to Devon,” she said. “I can see why everybody’s afraid of you.”

“Devon’s being a jackass,” Angel said sourly, “he’s damn smart to be afraid.”

“You’re a marshmallow,” she countered with an impish smile.

He nuzzled against her ear. “To you,” he admitted.

“Awww. Isn’t that sweet?” The voice was cold enough to freeze ice and it was coming from Cordelia Chase. Buffy jerked out of Angel’s embrace to face her best friend and social executioner. Cordelia put her hands on her hips and approached the couple with a superior sneer on her face.

“Figures that picky little Buffy would find the biggest social reject in the entire school,” she said, shaking her head. She looked stunning as usual and had frowned at Buffy’s blue jeans ensemble for the evening. Now her frown had turned into a mask of disgust. “I was wondering why you wore blue jeans tonight like a member of the common people. It’s so clear to me now.”

***

On Monday morning, Buffy walked into school and joined her friends in front of school like always. Since she had barely slept the night before, she had plenty of time to make sure her appearance was perfect and synch with Vogue’s latest trends.

Cordelia, Harmony, Azure and Blue stood near the wall in front of school, catching up on the latest gossip before the bell rang. Buffy approached her friends warily and just as she was steps away, they all gathered up their bags and sauntered toward the front doors of the school. She groaned. Of course, they had to make this harder than it already was. Determined to not be ignored, she hurried over to them.

“Wait up!” she shouted, double timing it toward them. “Excuse me? Where’s the fire sale?”

“Oh sorry,” Cordelia chirped, turning around to face her. She had the most condescending, not to mention fake, smile on her face. “We didn’t see you.”

Cordy smiled sweetly and pivoted toward the front door again. Buffy sighed. She followed them as they began walking again. “Anyway,” Cordy continued, “I can’t believe you wore black, Harm. It’s my signature color.”

“At least I didn’t wear blue jeans,” Harmony snorted delicately. “That’s Buffy’s new signature color.”

“Hey Buff,” Cordelia sneered, narrowing her hazel eyes at the blonde. “Maybe if you got a dog collar, you and Angel could be twins. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

***

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Angel demanded as Buffy sat down at one of the barstools.

She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. “You weren’t at the shop after school,” she said lamely.

He grunted, turning his attention back to the glasses he was washing.

Buffy fidgeted nervously. “So where were you?” she asked.

“Busy,” he said shortly.

“Angel,” she pled in a near whisper.

He braced his hands on the sink and shook his head. Brusquely, he wiped his hands on the dishtowel and threw it on the bar. “Pop, I’m takin’ a break,” he yelled in the general direction of his father.

Buffy followed him into a dingy back room. Cases of alcohol were stacked against the walls. He was careful to keep a good deal of distance between them. “Do you have any idea how stupid it was for you to come here alone at this time of night?” he demanded.

“I needed to talk to you,” she said pathetically.

“How did you get here?”

“I borrowed my dad’s car,” she said, willing herself not to cry. After the horrible day she had, she needed someone to be nice to her. Angel’s anger was almost more than she could take.

He raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, so you’re here. What do you want?”

To her own horror, tears did trickle down her cheeks. “Why are you so mad?” she asked.

“We’ve been subtle in public,” he bit out. “I was fine with that. We’re different. I know that. I tried to break things off ... “ He trailed off. “I should have broken it off,” he said firmly.

“I don’t want to break up,” she countered.

His head shot up and he glared at her with such loathing that Buffy thought she was going to die. “You’re ashamed of me,” he snapped. “You’re ashamed of everything we have.”

“I’m not – “

“I give you room, Buffy,” he nearly snarled. “I don’t push things in front of your nasty, fake little friends. I don’t go out of my way to talk to you in the halls or class. But today ... Today you wouldn’t even look in my general direction. You didn’t once come back to your locker for fear of running into me. You were so busy chasing after Cordelia and all those other bitches that I couldn’t get so much as a smile. I think I deserve some common fucking decency from you.”

“I didn’t mean to – “

“To what?” he yelled. “Be a bitch?”

“They’re my friends,” she said almost hysterically. “What do you want me to do?”

He was shaking with barely contained emotion as he walked toward her. He stopped just short of touching her. “I want you to love me half as much as I love you,” he whispered.

She started crying in earnest and leaned into him. With a strangled sound, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently. He buried his face in her hair. “I do love you, Buffy,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I love you,” she sniffled.

***

Buffy hadn’t realized until Angel stood her up at the garage just how much she did love him and how terrified she was of losing him. Suddenly what Cordelia and her band of bitches thought didn’t matter so much, or not nearly as much as Angel thought. The next morning, she breezed past the girls, who were huddled in their usual gossip circle, without saying a word. She strolled over to the side of the building near the benches where Angel and his friends hung out.

She casually strolled over, wearing his leather jacket. He looked up in shock to see her sauntering towards him. His mouth dropped open when she slid into his lap and stole a kiss from him.

“Morning Angel,” she purred against his mouth.

“Uh…hi,” he managed, swallowing harshly. Angel didn’t need to glance at his friends to know they all wore the same shit eating grins. It wasn’t the every day that a beautiful, popular girl crawled into the lap of a Dingo.

“Hey Willow,” Buffy said, drawing the attention of the redhead. Each second of the morning was getting better and better. Buffy flashed her a bright smile.

“Why?” Willow blurted. Oz squeezed her hand to comfort her, which only made her whirl her head to look at him. She struggled not to squirm. Buffy was of the popular crowd and legally couldn’t even talk to her without a specific reason. “I mean, hi,” Willow amended, raising her hand in a half-hearted wave.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to Bronze it on Wednesday night when the boys play,” she asked intertwining her fingers with Angel’s.

“S-sure, I guess,” Willow agreed, bewildered.

“Good,” she said, grinning. “I’ve missed too many concerts already.” When the bell rang, she hopped up and smiled down at Angel. “Walk me to class?”

“Fucking strange day in the ‘Dale,” Devon said, stalking by and eyeing Buffy. “Dude, I think I’ll ask Cordy out again.”

***

Angel was trying to get his Calculus homework finished, but he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. It was already late. Going to sleep had never sounded quite so tempting. He’d worked on the car for a while with Buffy, but had to cut it short to make band practice. As usual his father was on his case about not pulling his own weight and to top it off, he had an English paper to write after the math.

There was a knock on his door and Angel’s expression turned murderous. He pushed himself out of the chair in front of his small desk. He was yelling by the time he was on his feet. “I already said I’m not helping out at the bar to-“ He went stone still as he opened the door. “ ... nite,” he finished.

He stuck his head out in the hall and looked down the length of the small trailer he shared with his father. Nope, the old man was nowhere to be seen. He grabbed her hand and pulled her in his room, shutting and locking the door. “Buffy, what are you doing here?” he asked, trying to sound chastising, but failing miserably. Damn, she looked good. She’d obviously showered and changed after working on the car. She was dressed in a pair of low slung jeans. She still wore his jacket, but it was unzipped and he could see the tiny, skin-tight red tanktop she was wearing underneath.

“I wanted to see you,” she said with a smile. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squealed when he lifted her just an inch off the ground, enough to carry her across the tiny room to his bed. He climbed on the bed over her and settled in the natural cradle between her thighs. He kissed her gently, allowing himself just a small taste. He wanted to spend the whole night in her arms. He groaned into her neck in irritation.

“You can’t stay long, baby,” he said, kissing her neck. Even if his mountain of homework wasn’t beckoning, he knew he would be screwed if his father caught her there. He would never keep the woman he loved within fifty feet of his father if could avoid it.

“Then leave with me,” she suggested, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I wanna be with you.”

He leaned down and cupped her breast, biting her nipple through the clinging cotton. She keened, arching against his mouth. “Yes,” she sighed and smiled.

Angel gave up in defeat and peeled the tank up to reveal her flesh. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her skin, “so perfect.”

“Angel!” a banging sounded on his door along with his father’s gruff shout.

Angel hastily pulled Buffy’s tank top down and shouted back. “One second!”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Angel whispered, pulling to her feet. There weren’t many places to hide. He opened the closet door as his father started shouting again.

“Stop jacking off and open the fucking door, Angel!”

“Yeah, Pop! One more second,” he shouted. He got Buffy into the closet when his father kicked in the hollow wooden door.

“So this little slut is what all that homework was about?” he demanded. “What’s her name? Calculus?”

“Sorry Mr. Roarke, I just stopped by and interrupted-“ Buffy was more terrified now than she was the first time she saw him. This time he was swaying drunkenly and Angel carefully tucked her behind him protectively.

“Shut up!” Roarke shouted. “Get the fuck out. You can spread your skinny little thighs for my son later.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Angel said in a low voice. Buffy thought she had seen Angel angry before, but he wasn’t. This was angry. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth set in a scowl.

“Protecting her?” Roarke laughed drunkenly. “Get her out and go tend bar. Now.”

Coming to blows with his father was nothing new, but Angel wasn’t about to go a couple rounds with Buffy present. She might be spoiled, but at her core, she was innocent and gentle. Her father was one of the most doting parents Angel had ever seen. He didn’t want her to see the ugliness of his life.

Angel nodded curtly and his father seemed placated for the moment. They listened as his footsteps retreated down the hall. When the door to his room slammed shut, Angel grabbed Buffy’s hand and pulled her out the door.

***

Buffy unlocked the car door and looked up at Angel. He was staring out into the night, his jaw clenched so tightly she could see the muscles jump. Cautiously, she reached out, splaying her hand across his stomach.

He looked down at her hand and slowly reached up to twine his fingers through hers.

“Come home with me,” she said softly.

Angel looked at her for a split second with naked longing, but it was gone so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. He snorted, gently disentangling their fingers. “I have to work,” he said, trying to sound offhand. “Go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. And we’ll have tomorrow night at the Bronze.”

She wasn’t going to let him do this. He wasn’t going to push her away, even if he thought he was doing it for her own good. She moved, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her ear over his heart. “Come home with me. Please, Angel.”

He hugged her back, holding her tightly. “Sweetheart, your dad’s home.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but I actually like your dad. Quite a bit. I doubt he’d appreciate me sneaking in your room.”

She looked up at him. “Please.” She could see his resolve waver and quickly continued. “He sleeps like the dead, Angel. And his room is on the other side of the house. He’ll never know.”

Reluctantly, Angel smiled down at her. “I still have Calculus to do.”

“I’ll do it,” she chirped.

He rolled his eyes. “I would like to actually graduate.”

“Hey!” she smacked him playfully on the chest. “Okay, so I’m not going to do it. But I bet I could talk Willow into it.”

“Fine,” he said, giving her a playful squeeze.

She laughed, bouncing up on the balls of her feet. Her excitement, however, was cut short. “Are you going to be in trouble?” she asked quietly.

Angel snorted. “I’m always in trouble.”

Buffy gently placed her hand on his cheek and made him look at her. “Will your dad ... do anything?”

“Like beat the shit out of me?” Angel asked ruefully. He saw the hurt on Buffy’s face and immediately regretted his coarse words. He shrugged. “It depends on his mood,” he admitted. “He doesn’t have any problem with knocking me around, but he doesn’t do it so much now that I hit back.”

Buffy was quiet for a moment and then hugged him tighter. “I love you.”

***

Angel was scowling as he crawled in her bedroom window. “I still think this is a dumb idea,” he said in a harsh whisper.

“Really?” she asked unrepentantly, grinning as she watched the way his muscles flexed. “Because I was just thinking this is the best idea I’ve ever had.”

Angel snorted in dismissal and looked around. Her bedroom was almost the size of his whole trailer. Her full size bed with its ivory pillows and comforter looked like heaven when he compared it to his own narrow twin. Everywhere he looked Buffy’s personality seemed to blossom out in vibrant colors and exquisite taste. He smiled at a little stuffed pig that was perched on the pillows.

Heaving a burdened sigh, he turned around to face her. “Buffy, I should-“

This time, his jaw did drop open and his stomach clenched violently in arousal. He was fairly certain he stopped breathing. Her body was only barely covered in a white silk negligee that cupped her breasts teasingly and slinked over her body in a way that made his mouth go dry. She had let her hair loose from the clip she had it in and it fell over her shoulders and back in delicate waves.

She crossed the room in the sexiest saunter she could muster and pressed her barely covered body against his. Her hands smoothed over his chest as she placed hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

“Stay,” she whispered, caressing the rigid outline of his cock through his pants. He captured her lips hungrily and sucked her tongue greedily into his mouth. He pulled her tighter against him and kissed her for a long time, trying to slow down, to calm the hormones that spiked when he saw her in that meager bit of silk.

He made his way down her neck and then kissed the tops of her breasts, caressing them and then suckling her nipples until they could be seen through the light material. He looped his fingers through the spaghetti straps and took his time baring her body. She, on the other hand, was not so patient. She pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it in the middle of her room and immediately began tugging at the buttons on his Levi’s.

He caught her shaking hands and kissed her palms, then her fingertips. “I’ll stay,” he whispered. “Let’s just go slow, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes huge and trusting. The fact that she loved him so much was like a blow to the stomach, like a dream that he was afraid to wake up from. He leaned in and kissed her slowly and scooped her naked body into his arms. He laid her on gently on the bed and crouched over her, giving her warm, toe curling kisses.

“Are you sure you want this, Buffy?” he asked, cupping her cheek. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere if you want to wait.”

“I’m ready,” she answered softly. “I trust you, Angel. I love you.”

He couldn’t help but groan at her words. Damn, he loved this woman. Why exactly someone as perfect, beautiful and truly wonderful as Buffy Giles would bother wasting her time on him was a mystery. But it was a mystery he could live with.

He settled on his side next to her, his denim-clad leg insinuated between her silky smooth thighs. He’d seen beautiful women before, but none of them were like this. Buffy’s skin was so soft, so perfect. She didn’t smell like booze and cheap perfume. She smelled clean and flowery, with an undertone of her musky arousal that was just for him. His hands were rough and calloused, there was grime embedded so deep under his nails it would never scrub free ... yet she arched into his touch like she was made for him.

He kissed her for a long time, content to brush his lips against her, to feel her softness beneath his fingertips. But eventually, it wasn’t enough. She rolled him over onto his back and he complied without protest. He was so hard he was in physical pain. The front of his jeans was tented with the weight of his arousal. Carefully, Buffy inched the zipper downward. Together they managed to get his jeans down his legs so he could finally kick them off.

He gasped as her hand wrapped around his cock. She touched him lightly, her thumb playing over the head, which was slick with pre-ejaculate. He shuddered, his fingers tunneling through her hair as he pulled her close for a soul-searing kiss.

He rolled her back in the wealth of pillows and she went with perfect trust. Her hips cradled his naturally. He looked down at her, one of his large, calloused hands cupping her cheek.

“I love you,” she said with complete conviction, knowing that he was thinking he wasn’t good enough for her.

He kissed her again with such love and gratitude that it almost broke her heart. There was such a capacity for love within him, but it had been buried beneath a hard exterior for years. He positioned himself at her entrance and hissed in pleasure when he was barely inside her. She was just as hot and tight and deliriously silky as he dreamed she would be. Carefully, he stroked shallowly, moving in a bit further every time to allow her time to get used to the intrusion.

He rubbed her swollen nub in time with his movements, waiting for the pleasure before he gave her pain, but Buffy naturally fell into the rhythm and arched against him, moving up while he came down and together they breached the thin wall of her virginity, just shy of her orgasm. She gasped in pain and her fingers bit into his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, stilling his movements as he encouraged her climax to return. He kissed her long and hard, pouring his soul into her. “I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You never hurt me,” she whispered back.

He moved inside her once more and minutes later she toppled over the edge, orgasming with moans so loud he had to kiss her to quiet. Her tight sheath clenched around him in throes of ecstasy and he released, spilling his seed inside her body.

***

"Are you certain Buffy is ready?"

Angel's head shot up and he stared at Giles, slack-jawed. Oh my god. How did Giles find out? He had carefully snuck out of Buffy's house an hour before dawn. No one saw. "Huh?"

"Her car," Giles said absently, thumbing through one of his old books. He looked up at Angel. "Are you certain that she understands the weight of the responsibility of ownership now?" He cocked his head as he looked at his young assistant. "I dare say, are you feeling well?"

"The car," Angel said nodding. "Uh, yeah. I think after having to get her hands that dirty she understands."

Giles didn't look convinced but he shrugged. "I suppose I'll defer to your opinion."

***

As soon as the final bell rang, Buffy located Angel in the parking lot, leaning against the side of Oz's van as the two chatted. As she approached, Oz tactfully disappeared and Buffy wrapped her arms around Angel's waist. While his arms came up to embrace her, he didn't look at her, staring off into nothing, a frown on his face.

"What's up?" Buffy asked cautiously.

Angel looked down at his girlfriend, his frown intensifying. "Your dad," he said tightly.

Buffy shook her head. "What about my dad?"

Sighing, Angel carefully extricated himself from her embrace and started pacing the narrow space between Oz's van and a late model Ford. "Buffy, your dad has been great to me."

She crossed her arms over her chest, cocking one hip as she looked at him. "He's been pretty good to me too," she said dryly. "What does this have to do with us?"

"I respect him," Angel explained. "And I don't think that it's very forthright of me to play all nice with him to his face and then sneak into his house and nail his only daughter while he's sleeping down the hall."

Buffy rolled her eyes. Oh yes, her boyfriend was such a bad boy. "He knows there's something going on with us," she said blandly.

"That's not the same."

Buffy threw up her arms in exasperation. "So tell him we're dating," she said. "It's not like he's going to have a coronary or anything."

"I don't think you're being very reasonable about this," Angels said sharply.

"No," Buffy continued, advancing on him predatorily. "You're the one who's not being reasonable." She resumed her place in his arms once again, pushing herself up on her tippy toes to place a hard kiss against his jaw. "My dad likes you. A lot. He's not going to be upset that we're dating."

Angel shook his head. "If I was in his shoes, I wouldn't let me anywhere near you."

***

Buffy swayed in time with the band, sitting next to Willow at the Bronze that evening. She was beginning to like Willow more and more. She wasn’t anything like Cordelia and the rest of her airhead friends. She was sweet and ridiculously smart. Her brain, however, wasn’t nearly as big as her heart.

“I think I’m a groupie,” Willow said, beaming at Oz while he played guitar along with the rest of Dingoes Ate My Baby.

“Me too,” Buffy grinned. The guys ended their song and Devon announced a set break. Buffy’s smile widened and her stomach twisted in anticipation. She was still amazed that just seeing him walk in her direction could make her heart pound. Buffy’s grin faded as she saw Cordelia and Harmony sidling over to their table with very familiar snotty looks on their faces. She steeled her resolve and met their eyes defiantly.

They arrived at the table the same time as Angel and Oz, and Cordelia snorted in disgust. “Guess we’re just in time to meet the trash. Shouldn’t you be under a car hood somewhere?”

“Cordelia, shut up!” Buffy snarled. She rose to her feet despite Willow’s death grip on her arm. “You know what? You are a sheep, Cordy.”

Cordelia stuck her chin out. “I’m not a sheep.”

“You’re a sheep,” she repeated. “All you ever do is what everyone else does just so you can say you did it first and here I am, scrambling for your approval, when I’m way cooler than you are cause I’m not a sheep.”

Buffy stepped in closer, oblivious to her audience and the people stepping in to listen. “I’ll date whoever I want to date,” Buffy growled. “You’re just jealous because you underestimated Angel. I got the best guy in the whole damn school and you’re still picking through the scraps.”

Buffy turned toward Angel and grabbed his hand before stomping away. They were halfway through the Bronze when she started to hyperventilate. “Oh gods,” she cried in panic.

“You’re going to be okay, baby,” he said soothingly. “Just keep walking.”

“They’re never going to speak to me again,” she wailed. She turned to face him, eyes wide.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured kissing her lips. “And the sheep’ll talk to you again. I wouldn’t be so lucky for them not to.”

***

Friday afternoon, Buffy barely had gotten out of her last class, when Angel met her and lead her to the nearest supply closet. She grinned at his anxiousness, but all thoughts quickly disappeared when he slid his hands up her skirt and delved between her thighs. Two minutes later, she was wrapped around his waist.

"Yes," Buffy gasped, her fingernails digging into the nape of his neck, pressing his forehead against her collarbone. She shifted her legs around his waist as he drove inside her again and again. She tightened around him intentionally, rolling her hips as best she could. He choked her name, his rhythm faltering as he thrust one final time.

It was quiet and dark, the only noise their harsh breathing. He groaned, nuzzling against her jaw before setting her gently on her feet. He took a step back, leaning against one of the industrial shelving units that lined the interior of the supply closet. With what looked like an inordinate amount of effort, he tucked himself away and re-buttoned his jeans.

Buffy smiled as she stepped into her panties and smoothed down her skirt. She loved that she had the ability to tire him out. Pushing off from the wall, she pressed herself against his chest, rubbing her cheek against him like a cat. "What's the plan for tonight?" she asked.

He groaned, easily reading the teasing lilt in her voice. He'd chickened out about talking to her father and while Buffy was fine with it, she thought it was inordinately amusing that he was worrying about it so much. But the fact that he hadn't formally spoken with Giles also affected their plans for the dance. Angel couldn't very well make out in public with Buffy at a function her father was chaperoning.

"Oz can drop us by the shop tonight," he said. "Your car's finished. You can give me a ride home after the dance."

"Oh really?" she asked, and then giggled. "I thought I just gave you a ride."

He smiled carnally, wrapping his arms around her. "Trust me, baby," he whispered, "I'm good for multiple outings in a day."

Buffy smacked a kiss against his lips playfully. “You get Oz & Will, so I can make myself pretty in case we run into my Dad?”

She shivered as his eyes swept over her, making out her disheveled clothes, her swollen, warm lips and her mussed hair. He thought she never looked more beautiful. He nodded in agreement and they eased out of the closet, heading their separate ways.

He made it four steps from their rendezvous point when a thought hit him that made him stagger back against the wall. He ran a hand through his wild spiked hair and fought to breathe. It never, not even once, occurred to him that he should use protection with Buffy. He swore, squeezing his eyes shut. Mostly because of the women he’d been with, condoms were used to protect him, not them. His concerned for this talk with Giles just bumped up from nailing his daughter to knocking her up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The lyrics contained in the text in this part are by Tori Amos from her album, Little Earthquakes.

Buffy didn't know what was going on, but something was definitely up with Angel. Plans changed when she ran into her father in the parking lot and he offered to give her and Angel a ride to the shop. They accepted, but Angel was twitchy as Cordelia had been that day she ran out of her custom formulated mascara and had to use - gasp - Cover Girl.

Her dad had waited in the car, intending to follow her home in case her car still had issues. Consequently, she and Angel didn't have an opportunity for anything more meaningful than a peck on the lips. For the life of her, Buffy couldn’t figure out what his problem was, but there would be time enough after the dance to figure it out.

She looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She looked good. There had been a good deal of debate about whether or not she should wear a costume to the Halloween dance. The three previous years, she'd always gone as part of an ensemble. But this year, being on the outs with the Cordettes and the fact that Angel was actually working the dance, she was on her own. She'd almost talked herself into not wearing a costume, but then a quick stop by one of the downtown shops changed her mind.

The dress was gorgeous. In it, she felt like a fairy princess. She wasn't really sure about the long, dark wig, but when she tried it all on together, it gave her an exotic appeal that she couldn't wait to test on Angel. He still didn't know she was dressing up. One last wiggle to increase the amount of visible cleavage and she grabbed Angel's jacket from the foot of her bed, heading out the door.

***

Angel sat in the Espresso Pump and hid in the corner with a cup of black coffee. He told himself he was there to avoid his father before the dance, but he knew that wasn’t the real reason he was there. He was brooding and he had to be somewhere where he wouldn’t run into people he knew to do it. He felt strange sitting there, surrounded by people who he never would have associated with before he became involved with Buffy.

Buffy.

He groaned and closed his eyes, inhaling the steam wafting from his cup. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she asked him why he was so shifty. He couldn’t even think about her without his heart pounding, let alone look at her.

A pretty female voice crooned through the speaker behind him and as much as he tried to ignore the alternative girly lyrics, he found himself listening.  _So you found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts_ , the woman sang lightly.  _What’s so amazing about really deep thoughts_. Angel took a sip of his coffee and enjoyed the bitter taste of the superior brew. The song really wasn’t half bad.  _Boy, you best pray that I bleed real soon. How’s that thought for ya?_

Angel jerked and response to the last two lines and cursed when the coffee splattered all over the table in front of him. _Boy, you best pray that I bleed real soon. How’s that thought for ya?_ echoed in his mind. On second thought, he hated the song.

And coffee was a horrible, horrible idea. What he needed was a much stronger, more intense drink. If he wasn’t due at the Bronze in ten minutes, he’d already be drowning in something pilfered from his dad’s supply in the back of the bar. He groaned, wiped off the table with a wad of napkins and cursed again.

***

It took Buffy a while to find Willow. She almost jumped out of her skin when the chipper little ghost said hello. They fell in step, chatting as they headed to the table Willow claimed earlier. Buffy perched on the edge of her seat. She couldn't help but grin as she watched the guys on stage. Angel wasn't wearing a shirt, which was just fine by her. His arms, god she loved his arms.

Willow waving to someone caught Buffy's attention and she followed her friend's line of sight. Buffy smiled at her father, who was dressed like a magician, and waved happily. She loved him. He was the bestest dad in the whole wide world. But right now, she was really wishing that he had some job that required him to travel. A lot. To foreign countries.

As usual, the turnout at the dance was really good. There simply wasn't anything else for the students of Sunnydale High to do. It being Halloween, a lot of people were in costumes. Personally, Buffy felt that Cordy would have been more subtle just screaming "look at my tits", than she was wearing that catsuit. But even Cordy's amply displayed cleavage wasn't enough to ruin Buffy's night.

When Devon announced a set break and Angel didn't immediately seek her out, she realized he hadn't seen her yet. With a coy grin on her face, she followed Willow to the corner where Angel and Oz were talking. They were debating about what sort of amps would clear up their sound and although Oz was nearly expressionless as usual, Buffy got the idea that it was a really serious musician discussion.

“Hey,” Willow announced, scooting close to Oz’s side. She was very nervous about the costume Buffy had talked her into but the amorous stares the redhead was getting Buffy decided it was a good thing. Oz looked like he was about to swallow his tongue when he looked in Will’s direction. It had taken her quite a while to reveal her real and somewhat daring little costume underneath the boo-ware.

Buffy waited for Angel’s assessment nervously. “Hello, kind sir,” Buffy said, sweeping into a graceful curtsey she knew gave Angel a juicy display of cleavage.

“Wow,” Angel said, raking his eyes over her. He searched the club to find that Giles was occupied in talking to another chaperone, so he kissed her quickly. “You look beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. He intended to pull back right away but she pressed close to him and pressed her lips against his harder, snaking her tongue between his lips. He pulled away as soon as he could break the kiss and stepped back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, searching his eyes.

“You’re father’s here,” he answered, nodding in Giles’ direction. “I don’t want him to see us making out, alright?”

“I’ll just tell him we’re dating then,” Buffy said. She pivoted in her dress, secretly loving the way it billowed out around her, and headed toward her father.

“No!” Angel nearly shouted. He pulled her back against him. “No. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him anything.”

“Okay, you’re power freaked here,” she said. He had the look of crazed animal in his eyes and she was pretty sure it didn’t have to do with telling her father they were dating. “What’s really going on, Angel?”

“Nothing,” he said, swallowing harshly. “I’m fine. I just don’t want to tell Giles tonight, alright? Let’s save it for a different day.”

***

Angel was acting so weird that it partially soured Buffy's good mood. But she perked up when her father agreed to let her spend the night at Willow's house. Several minutes later, Willow was barely able to contain her grin as she whispered to Buffy that her mother had agreed to let her stay at Buffy's house.

"This is so scandalous," Willow whispered. "I never would have dared this."

"What?" Buffy scoffed. "A round robin? That's in the high school manual somewhere. Rule number fifteen I think. When in need of all night party, round robin. It hasn't failed me yet."

Willow grinned. "It's so exciting," she said giddily. "I've never been able to go to one of the after hours parties before. And Oz is always so tight lipped about them. I mean, I don't worry about him going without me, but I am interested."

***

Angel cursed as he dropped the symbol, but Oz managed to catch it before it clattered to the ground. "Thanks, man," he said, relieved to have some help.

"No problem," Oz countered, opening the back doors of the van so they could load the drum kit inside. "Hey," he said, "Willow just caught me. I guess the after party has been moved. Something about Rudy's parents showing up unexpectedly."

"Damn," Angel cursed, setting the drum down. "That's our standard venue. Where are we supposed to go?"

Oz shrugged. "I guess Buffy knew of some place. She says that it's where the rich kids used to party before Cordelia's parents moved her out to their pool house. Apparently it doesn't get used anymore."

Angel's brow furrowed. Buffy had never mentioned this place to him. "Where?"

"That old mansion out on Crawford Street. Buffy and Will already took off to make sure it was still useable. Everyone's supposed to meet there later."

***

Angel let out a low whistle as he followed Oz inside the mansion. Since they had to break down all the equipment after the dance, they were late to the party. There were already at least fifty cars on the lawn out front. Angel had seen this place before, but never up close. It was damn impressive. There was no electricity, but necessity is ever the mother of invention. There were torches and candles everywhere, giving the space an oddly gothic feel. Someone had brought in a stereo with a really long extension cord that ran god only knew where. Music was blaring and there were people everywhere, dancing, drinking, kissing, all of the above. Angel looked around, but Buffy was nowhere to be seen.

Oz let out a grunt as Willow launched herself into his arms giggling. Angel turned away in a vain attempt to give the couple a little privacy. Devon walked by and handed him a beer that Angel immediately opened and half-drained. He turned as Willow tapped him on the shoulder. She cocked a finger at him and Angel looked to Oz for information. Oz merely shrugged. Curious, Angel followed Willow through the cavernous living room and around a corner to a back staircase.

"Third floor," she whispered. "Second door on the left."

Willow bounded off and Angel finished his beer before climbing the steps. It was really dark and he took out his Zippo to offer some light. He found the appointed doorway and gave a terse knock before pushing it open.

He stood in the doorway, unable to move. Unfortunately, the Zippo burned his finger and he dropped it. Sheepishly, he picked it up and returned it to his pocket. He stepped into the room, closing and locking the door behind himself.

Innumerable candles burned in the room, filling it with a soft, flickering light. The bedroom was enormous, but that wasn't half as impressive as the bed. It looked like you could fit a dozen people on it. Of course, there weren't a dozen people on it. There was just one, Buffy.

“Rudy’s parents didn’t come home, did they?” he asked. He was surprised at how hoarsely his voice came out even though all the blood in his body was rushing toward his groin. Buffy lounged across the giant bed in a red silk teddy that framed her curves gorgeously. He found himself gulping for air.

“No,” she answered coyly, running a hand over her body as she stalked him with her eyes. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Worked,” he grunted. He still hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt and she enjoyed watching his approach. The candlelight played beautifully across his naked upper body and she greedily took in every detail.

“I wanted to have you to myself without worrying that we’d get caught,” she said, wrapping her arms around him as he crouched over her. “I wanted to hold you and know that whatever’s bothering you…I wanted to be sure that….” She tapered off and looked up at him. Her face showed absolute trust and love, a look that would break any man. “You’re not all wiggy just because of my Dad, are you, Angel?”

Much to her surprise, he let out a groan and buried his face in her neck. His voice was muffled when he spoke again. “I fucked up.” He was silent for a moment, focusing on her arms around him, the feel of her fingertips brushing against his skin, then he looked up at her face. “I realize when I was taking advantage of our supply closet time the other day that we hadn’t used any, you know, protection. For all we know, you could be pregnant with my child right now, Buffy.”

“What if I was?” she asked, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice. She had thought of it recently as well, but she trusted Angel. She knew that if they were doing something wrong, he would make sure she was okay. She was certain of it when the fleeting thought passed through her mind. Now, with the desperation filling the air, she was worried. She didn’t want to doubt his feelings for her. The last thing she wanted to do what doubt him.

“I will always take care of you,” he whispered, keeping his gaze locked directly with hers. He caressed her cheek with a shaky hand. Despite his nervousness, she saw truth and devotion there. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you if I can avoid it, Buffy. You know that I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against his. “If I am late this month, I’ll get a test, okay?”

“Okay,” he answered, taking a deep trembling breath. Much to his surprise, she nudged him to roll over on his back and straddled him, rubbing her groin against his seductively.

“In the meantime,” she said throatily, “I was hopin’ you could help me out of this little outfit. These things are so complicated.” She smiled deviously at him, idly touching the lacey edge of the teddy, and he growled in response. He pulled her down for a long, lingering kiss and moaned as his hands moved over her body. Moments later, she realized in the middle of their heated kiss that his hands were on her bare breasts. So much for complicated. Of course, he also had a lot of training. You couldn’t take as many shop classes as he did without figuring out how to reverse engineer a good number of items. The fact that she could even think the phrase “reverse engineer” while his fingers were tweaking her nipples should have earned her a place in the Smart Blondes Hall of Fame.

He rolled them over again, pulling the teddy down her body. She wriggled free of the material, wrapping her bare legs around his waist. He kissed her while digging in his back pocket for his wallet. He finally wrapped his fingers around it and slapped it down on the pillow next to Buffy’s head. She couldn’t help but giggle at the look of absolute concentration on his face while he used one hand to try and root through the wallet. The other, of course, was busy tweaking her breast.

After far too long, he finally found the condom. He grasped it between his teeth as he rolled onto one hip, kicking off his shoes and hurriedly shimmying out of his jeans. Buffy laughed again and plucked the condom from his bite. He looked at her and she motioned for her now naked Angel to roll onto his back. If there was ever an instance where he was inclined to humor her, this was it. “You think I need help with this?” he asked, trying not to smile.

She frowned down at him. “I need the practice,” she said coyly. Carefully, she tore the tin wrapper and extracted the condom. He groaned, arching into her touch as she grasped him, stroking him several times before positioning the latex over the head of his cock. Just like she remembered, she pinched the reservoir tip as she rolled the condom down his shaft. It was a tight fit. He was considerably larger than her last practice subject. She smiled with satisfaction of a job well done. “It’s been a while,” she said.

His smile disappeared in an instant. “A while?” he asked darkly.

She giggled. “Sex ed class last year,” she explained. She looked at him, smiling in undiluted appreciation. “May I just say that you’re much more interesting than a banana.”

“Thank you,” he said wryly.

“Besides,” she said, “I noticed you weren’t in class, as usual.”

He snorted. “Baby, I’m a loser, not a moron. Trust me when I tell you that a sex ed class junior year would have been remedial education.”

Her outraged smack never connected with his chest. Angel flipped them over again, pinning her under his body as he kissed her breathless. Whatever lingering irritation she felt at his cheeky comment quickly melted away. The way he kissed her, the way he touched her ... everything about his movements told her that she was the most precious thing in his world.

He hooked his hand under her knee, notching it around his waist as he carefully slid inside her. With the condom, the sensations weren’t as sharp, but being inside Buffy was still the most glorious feeling he’d ever experienced. She moaned, her fingernails biting into the small of his back, urging him to drive into her harder. He obliged, planting his palms on either side of her head as he pushed himself up as far as he could. Bracing his knees and feet on the mattress, he thrust into her, his pelvis smacking sharply against hers.

Buffy’s back arched, her eyes fluttering shut as she made a series of high trilling noises deep in her throat. Buffy beneath him, with her hair in a wild disarray, her nipples pebbled, perspiration glistening on her skin – Angel thought he might die from the sight alone. But then her internal muscles clenched around him and he knew he was wrong. Now he was going to die. With a groan, he dropped down over her again, capturing her lips against his own. She kissed him wildly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she rubbed her breasts against his chest.

“Love you,” she panted out, raising her hips to meet his thrusts. Angel moved inside her, building her up again, wanting nothing more than to spend the whole night seeing her face in ecstasy. For some strange reason, before he came up here, he had actually been afraid she was pregnant, that he had ruined something between them – or possibly could. That was outside of her arms. Now, inside her embrace, he wondered how it ever seemed possible to be worried about some distant future. There was only the two of them forever. Wasn’t that the whole point?

***

Buffy turned around when Willow walked through the French doors to join her in the sunken courtyard. The sun was just up and you could hear birds chirping madly in all the trees. Most of the house was eerily quiet, despite the large number of bodies. There had to be two dozen people passed out inside the mansion.

“Morning,” Willow said, yawning loudly.

“Mrn’n,” Buffy tried to reply around a mouthful of toothpaste. She spit into the dilapidated fountain and then took another mouthful from her bottle of Evian before spitting again. Willow looked longingly at her toothbrush, toothpaste and bottled water. Buffy smiled, holding up her backpack. “Shack bag,” she said.

“Sha wha?”

“Shack bag,” Buffy repeated. “If you’re going to shack somewhere, you need supplies.” She handed Willow the tube of toothpaste and bottle of water. Willow quickly squirted a dollop of Colgate onto her finger as Buffy brushed out her hair. By the time Willow moved onto the hairbrush, Buffy was using her Olay Daily Facial cloths to wash her face. Eventually, they moved over to one of the stone benches so Buffy could re-apply her makeup in natural light. Willow watched the beauty ritual with fascination but declined Buffy’s offer to share.

“I didn’t realize there was so much involved in staying out all night,” Willow explained.

Buffy shrugged. “I’ve been doing this about once or twice a month since freshman year, you pick up some habits.”

Willow’s lips pursed together like she was trying to decide if she wanted to ask something or not. “So, uh, you do ... this ... a lot?”

Buffy looked at her seriously. “By this you mean ...?”

“Nothing,” Willow chirped, obviously embarrassed.

Buffy shrugged nervously. “No. I mean, yes, I’ve stayed out all night lots of times, but never ... Uh. I’ve never stayed in one of the upstairs rooms before. Angel is my, uh, he’s my ... “

Willow sighed in relief. “Oz is my ... “

They both laughed.

***

“Why exactly is he here?” Angel demanded, glaring at Oz.

Oz merely shrugged, glancing over at Devon who was seriously hung over and kept moaning. Normally it wouldn’t have mattered, but they were all crammed into a booth at Denny’s and Angel was getting sick of listening to him. He and Buffy had gotten the short straw, so Devon was in their side of the booth. His face was pressed against the fogged up window. Every few seconds, he moaned like a dying man.

“He’s okay, Angel,” Buffy said, giggling when he pulled her closer to his side. She had been stuck sitting in the middle of them and Angel growled every time Devon started to sway in her direction. Twice Devon had let out an embarrassing expletive loud enough to turn heads because Angel thumped his head on the window.

“This is so cool,” Willow announced grinning happily. “We have morning together and afterglow…”

“And hung over people,” Buffy added. She grinned and snuggled closer to Angel. “And  _Moons Over My Hammy_.” Angel gave her a look of disgust, but snagged a fry from her plate.

“Need a drink,” Devon groaned. He started to slide across the bench seat and didn’t stop when he reached Buffy. He just kept scooting until he was pressing against her. “It’s the only way to make this all go away. Far, far away.”

“Get off my girl, fucker,” Angel growled, shoving him against the window for the third time.

“FUCK!” Devon groaned as his head beaned against the heavy plate glass.

“My hero,” Buffy mock sighed dreamily. Willow burst into giggles.

***

Buffy sighed, looking up from her book in exasperation. She quickly glanced around the library. Thankfully, it was deserted. If there was any luck, her dad would be chatting with the computer teacher for a while. She turned, glaring at Angel. “I love you,” she said firmly. “But if you don’t stop hovering, I’m going to kill you.”

He frowned at her. “I’m just ... “

“Paranoid,” she finished for him. “Angel, look, you sitting here worrying about this isn’t going to make it happen any faster. Okay for the next five minutes I’m going to ignore the major squick factor of discussing my girl problems with my boyfriend, but Aunt Flo isn’t scheduled to show up until next week. There is no way for us to find out before then if we even have anything to be worried about. Okay?”

He leaned back in his chair glowering. Patience had never been one of his strong points and where Buffy was concerned, it was nearly non-existent. He was so worried he wasn’t sleeping, barely eating and he was making Buffy crazy.

To keep himself from hovering over her every second, he picked up as many hours as possible at both the shop and the bar, hoping to keep his thoughts elsewhere. He begged off from band practice after he accidentally put a hole in his snare drum. He told them he had to buy another one but the truth was the only rhythm he wanted to know about was Buffy’s menstruation.

***

The week dragged by with the sort of agonizing slowness one only reserved for extremely painful and embarrassing moments. His three lunches a week helping Giles out used to be a welcome time to get his homework done and have some peace and quiet. Now he jumped three feet if her father even said his name.

The following week, he met her at the stairs first thing Monday morning. If she had known he had been there since dawn streaked across the sky, she would have had a fit. He felt it unnecessary to share that little tidbit.

“How are you doing?” he asked, clutching her shoulders nervously. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Gods, Angel, I don’t have cancer,” she spat. “And I don’t have my period either. Just calm down, alright? No one is dying here. You’re making me insane.”

He raked his hand through his hair, pacing in a rough circle. Sighing in exasperation, she grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the supply closet. Reluctantly, he let her pull him inside as she locked the door. She pinned him against the wall and attempted to press a kiss against his jaw.

Gently, but firmly, he caught her wrists and forced her to take a step backward. "Buffy, this isn't the time," he huffed.

Okay, that was it. She'd had all she could take. She yanked her wrists out of his grasp. Taking a step back, she cocked out one hip and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "We talked about this more than a week ago at the mansion," she said angrily. "I know you were worried, but we discussed things and I really thought we were okay. What gives? Why are you being all psycho about this again?"

He growled in frustration, banging his head back against the wall. "That was a week and a half ago," he replied sharply.

"And what exactly has happened in the last week and a half?" she demanded.

"You haven't bled, that's what's happened," he yelled.

Her head snapped back like he'd hit her and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "I see," she said thickly. "It's that terrifying is it?" He reached for her and she twisted away, her body language screaming for him to not touch her. "It's one thing for you to be all calm and loving about it when you're about to get laid, but in the harsh light of day I'm just another burden is that it?"

"Buffy," he groaned, balling his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her.

"No," she spat. "Fine. Have a nice life, Angel. I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about anything ever again."

He listened to the door slam, unable to move. Slowly, he leaned back against the wall and slid down it until he was a useless heap on the floor. He fucked up. He fucked up bad. Yes, he was terrified beyond belief at the thought of possibly getting Buffy pregnant. There were a million reasons for his terror: he knew he'd be a terrible father, Buffy deserved to have a life without being burdened with a child so young, Giles would kill him. It went on and on into infinity. But nowhere on that list was he terrified because he didn't love her or because he couldn't love their child.

Stiffly, he pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't believe how bad he messed things up. Right now, Buffy needed his support. She had to be just as terrified as him, probably more, but she wasn't letting it make her bitter. She needed him and he wasn't there for her. With a growl, he punched his hand against the wall with as much strength as he could muster.

***

"Buffy, are you okay?" Willow asked gently. Buffy had asked her to meet her at her car in the parking lot right after school, but Willow had no idea why.

Buffy shrugged, trying not to start crying again. "I need your help," she said quietly.

"Anything," Willow said vehemently. She bit down on her bottom lip, looking at her friend. "Buffy, what happened?"

Buffy shrugged again and a tear slipped down her cheek. "Angel," she said, feeling idiotic. "I think maybe … " She swallowed thickly, willing herself not to start crying. "I think maybe we broke up this morning."

"Oh, Buffy," Willow gasped, pulling her friend into a tight hug.

Buffy clung to her friend, letting the tears she'd been holding back all day fall. It was several long minutes before she could compose herself. She sniffled, wiping at her eyes with a tissue. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I think he must be really mad. I haven't seen him all day, which means he's probably avoiding me."

Willow shook her head. "He wasn't here today, Buffy."

"No, he was," Buffy assured her.

"He was," Willow amended quickly, "but he left early. He was gone all day."

"Great," Buffy said, her face crumbling into a frown. "Now I've scared him completely off school."

"No, no, no," Willow said, patting her on the shoulder. "He was at the hospital."

Buffy's tears dried instantly. "Hospital?"

"Oz had to go get him at lunch and take him home. He broke his hand. I guess Angel wouldn’t say how it happened, but Oz said it looked like he punched something hard. Like a wall."

***

Buffy sat in her car a long time after she sent Willow to find Oz. She wanted to know what had happened to Angel, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being pushed away again. It crushed her when he did it in the supply closet that morning.

She dried her tears and restored her makeup before going to the convenience store for a pregnancy test. She hurried through the doors and down the aisles, causally picking up random things like cosmetics, toothpaste and shampoo. The reason for the trip was inevitable and she soon found herself standing in front of a small row of pregnancy tests. She looked around her suspiciously before tucking one into her arm full of items. Tears welled in her eyes before she even made it to the checkout counter.

As much as she wanted to ignore the truth, as much as she wished that her body would announce with her monthly cycle that they were worried for no reason, she knew in her heart that Angel was right. There was reason to worry. She was late and she was never ever late. The phrase “like clock work” was coined for Buffy Giles.

***

“Ah, Buffy, can I speak with you for a moment?”

Buffy stopped dead in her tracks, immediately putting her shopping bag behind her back. The last thing she needed was her father finding out she bought a pregnancy test. What was he doing home anyway? Okay, that was a bit harsh. He did live here, after all. But dammit, she needed some privacy. “Sure,” she said, “just let me go change.”

Fifteen minutes later, she joined her father in the living room where he was flipping through the mail. “What’s the what?” she asked, sitting down in the large armchair.

He set down the mail, rearranging his glasses as he looked at her. “Well, Thanksgiving break is coming up and I had been thinking perhaps it would be a good opportunity for us to visit England.”

Buffy stared at him blankly for a moment. “England?”

“Well, I know it’s a bit sudden,” he said, “but next year you’ll be away at college and I thought this would be a nice time for us to go together. Plus, I found a discount on airline tickets.”

She shrugged. It had been five or six years since they’d been back to visit her father’s family. No doubt they were indeed due for another visit. Plus, right now things were so up in the air with Angel. It might be nice to get out of Sunnydale for a week. “Sounds good,” she said.


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy was vainly trying to concentrate on her Chemistry homework when something hit her bedroom window. She looked up and saw another rock ping against the glass. Frowning, she walked over to the window, raising the blinds. She stared down at Angel.

She was caught between finding something to throw at him and letting him in. Much to his relief, she opened the window and walked away leaving him to his own devices. Seconds later, he made it through the window, broken hand and all, and headed directly over to her bed. He lowered himself to his knees before her. She caressed his injured hand.

“I heard about this,” she said, caressing the cast lightly with her fingertips.

“Just one thing in a long line of personal fuck ups,” he said bitterly. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. He hated what he saw there – uncertainty, fear, nervousness, the beginnings of tears not yet shed. “The worst thing I ever did was push you away,” he said quietly. “You’re not a burden, Buffy. I meant everything I said that night in the mansion. I love you and I will take care of you.”

“You’ll take care of me,” she echoed. Tears made their way down her cheeks despite her attempts to keep them at bay. She swiped at them angrily. “What are you going to do send me child support checks, Angel?” Buffy choked out. “Take our kid to the ballgame every other month?”

“No,” Angel said firmly, “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you with everything I have in me. Every penny I make and every minute of my time is for you for now until I’m dust. Is that clear enough?” He cupped her face in his hands. “If you’re pregnant, if you’re not pregnant – whatever – I will still love you just as much. I’m not going anywhere, Buffy, I promise.”

Buffy threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. “I thought I lost you. I thought it was over.”

“You can’t lose me,” he murmured gently. He held her so tightly against him that it was almost painful, but Buffy didn’t say a word. Instead, she just clung to him and cried harder.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” Buffy said, after both of them had calmed down. She held his broken hand in both of hers.

“It’s my fault,” he whispered, kissing her lips gently. Soberly, he added, “But, baby, if we don’t take a pregnancy test soon, I think I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. I have to know before we can deal, okay?”

***

Buffy returned to her bedroom where Angel was pacing like a caged tiger. He looked at her expectantly, but her expression betrayed nothing. She handed him the little plastic stick and went to sit on her bed.

Angel looked at the stick in his hand. He read the directions on the package, so he knew what the result meant. He set the stick down on her dresser and once again dropped to his knees in front of her. With his good hand, he tugged on her wrist until she slid off the bed and into his lap.

“It could be wrong,” she said, her voice muffled by the fact that her face was burrowed against his chest.

He held her tighter, taking a deep breath. “Do you think it’s wrong?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Neither do I,” he told her.

She looked up at him and he bent his head down, kissing her slowly. “I love you, Buffy,” he said. “And our baby.” She buried her face against his chest again.

“Oh, I’m going to England over Thanksgiving,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“What?” he said. “It sounded like you said you were going to England.”

She pulled away and looked up him. “I am. Dad already bought the tickets.”

“Oh no. No way,” he said, pulling them both to their feet. “You are not getting on a plane. It’s not good for the baby. Forget it. Tell him you can’t go.”

“Just say no,” she said dryly. “Just like that.”

“Well…” he said in exasperation, “make something up.”

She stared up at him, her brow furrowed. “Why are you upset about this?” she asked. “It’s not like we’re moving there. We leave on Wednesday and get back on Saturday.”

He glowered.

“Angel?” she pled.

“I don’t want you that far away,” he groused. “Especially not now.”

She smiled sappily at him. “You’re worried about me,” she said.

“Yeah, well, it’s my prerogative,” he grouched.

She shrugged, snuggling up against him again. “We could always just tell my dad I’m pregnant. He might let me stay home.”

Angel groaned, burying his face in her hair. “Your dad is going to murder me.”

Buffy sobered. “Actually, I don’t have any idea what he’s going to do. I mean, we haven’t even told him that we’re dating yet. That’ll be a fun conversation. Hey, Dad, yeah, Angel and I are going out, and by the way you’re going to be a grandfather. I don’t think he’ll take it well.”

“I’m a dead man.”

***

Buffy’s brow furrowed as she approached the lunch table where Oz, Willow and Angel were sitting. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving and almost everyone was in a foul mood. They all just wanted a break from school for a while. But even that didn’t explain Devon’s angry form stomping away from the table.

She took a seat, setting down her tray carefully. “What’s his problem?” she asked, nodding toward Devon.

“Josh didn’t work out,” Oz offered.

Buffy frowned. The Dingoes had been searching for a fill in drummer since Angel broke his hand. They still had another three weeks before his cast came off and they’d already had to cancel four gigs. If they didn’t find a filler, they’d have to cancel another three. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Angel looked at Buffy’s lunch tray and then glared at her.

“What?” she asked self-consciously. Noticing that all she had was jello, she said, “My stomach didn’t feel like hard food today. But hey, there’s fruit in it.”

Angel leaned in closer. “Those are marshmallows,” he bit out. “And maybe a ... french fry?”

Buffy made a face, pushing the tray away from herself. “On second thought ... “

***

Giles had a bit more of a bounce to his step as he walked out of the teacher’s lounge toward sixth period study hall where he would be substituting for the afternoon. Ms. Calendar, the school’s new computer teacher was winsome and bright – something normally lacking Sunnydale High. He was thinking about asking her on a date when he returned from his trip to England with Buffy.

It seemed like everything was working out well. Buffy seemed more exuberant about life and school in general lately. She was a pleasure to be around. She seemed to have outgrown her more catty friends, which was something he was pleased with. He would much prefer she spend her time with Willow Rosenberg.

He was also delighted with his decision to spend the holiday in England. It was amusing and ironic that they would be going back across the sea for Thanksgiving. He dearly missed home and was looking forward to seeing the family he had left behind. They hadn’t been back since Joyce passed away. It should make for a nice trip.

Lost in his own thoughts, he rounded the corner where Cordelia and Harmony, Buffy’s friends, were chatting about something or other. Normally, he would have just passed by and paid them no mind, as they usually did to him, but he overheard his daughter’s name. Casually, he slowed down his gait and cocked an ear in their direction.

“No way!” Harmony nearly shouted.

“Oh yeah,” Cordelia said, nodding her dark head gravely, “You heard me right. Angel ‘The Loser’ Roarke knocked up Buffy.”

“Oh. My. God.” Harmony said, leaning against the locker she was standing in front of. “Who would have ever thought she’d actually sink that low?”

“I know,” Cordelia agreed. She opened her purse, found a small flip cell phone and immediately began dialing. “I have to call everyone I have ever met right now.”

***

Angel leaned against the kitchen sink, staring down the trailer at the door to his dad’s room. The place was a total wreck as usual. Dishes from the last three weeks were piled in the sink. There were beer cans and empty pizza boxes everywhere. Damn, he hated this place. He’d always hated this place, even though it had been home for almost as long as he could remember. The big house with the lawn and the swing set was nothing more than the most distant memory now.

He took a deep breath. This was his life. This was what he had to offer Buffy. He hung his head in shame. Even now, he was cutting school to do this. What kind of a father would he make? What kind of a husband? If he loved Buffy, he’d walk away from her. He’d spare her and their child the embarrassment of having him in their lives. But even as he thought it, he knew he could never do it. He loved Buffy more than he ever thought possible. And despite everything, he wanted this baby. He wanted to have a life with her.

Steeling his resolve, he headed for his Dad’s room. It was a pigsty. The bed was unmade as usual. The sheets probably hadn’t been changed in a year. Closet doors were missing and he could still see clothes hanging in there from his dad’s previous four live-in girlfriends. None of them had stayed long. Why would they? His dad was nothing more than a washed up shell of a man, dead inside.

Angel made his way over to the closet, rummaging around on the top shelf. With one hand still in a cast, it took him far longer than necessary to accomplish such a simple task. Eventually he found what he was looking for.

He sat down on the corner of his dad’s bed, holding the antique jewelry box in his lap. It was without a doubt the nicest thing in the entire trailer. It had belonged to his mother, passed down from her mother for generations. Angel ran his fingers lightly over the clasp. It was old and beautiful. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his mind to wander. He barely remembered her anymore. He had only the most fleeting impression, a memory of her voice, her smell. She had been so beautiful and gentle. They had been a family then. He remembered his parents being happy together. And then one day everything changed. Angel pushed the memory away.

He flipped open the box. There, nestled in the aging velvet was the silver Claddagh. It was tarnished with age, but still beautiful. His mother would have liked Buffy, Angel knew that in his heart. Very carefully, he removed the ring. Tonight he would ask Buffy to be his wife.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Angel’s head snapped up and he looked at his father’s enraged features. The larger man barreled into the room, grabbing Angel by his shirt and hauling him off the bed before he had time to react. “I said what the fuck do you think you’re doing with her ring!” he bellowed.

***

Giles was far angrier than he ever remembered being since Buffy was born. He couldn’t believe the gall of Angel, that miscreant touching his little girl! Did he think to get on his good side by shelving books and helping in the library? A fury raged over him and he found himself sitting stock still in study hall until the class was up.

At the end of the day, he drove home going exactly the speed limit and pulled into his driveway. He had decided he would sit down and calmly speak to his daughter like a civilized adult before he lost his temper. That, of course, was before he saw Angel’s motorcycle in his driveway.

All his careful calming and reason flew out the window. He opened his car door and hurried into the house, leaving his beloved ancient leather briefcase on the seat. He had visions of Angel taking advantage of his daughter flashing before his eyes as he ran up the stairs, taking them two at time. Reaching the top of the stairs, he ran to the end of the hall and burst through the door without bothering to knock. He opened his mouth and a gasp came out.

“Oh dear Lord,” Giles groaned, stepping inside.

Angel was beaten so badly Giles almost couldn’t believe he had ridden his bike over. His injured hand was mangled and splashed with what appeared to be his own blood. His face was bruised and swollen, his lip split. His clothes were torn – more than normal – and he was bleeding freely from his temple and right arm.

Giles watched his daughter for a moment. She had looked up at him frantically when he came in but hadn’t said a word. She was currently trying to tend to Angel’s wounds but her hands were shaking so badly she wasn’t get very much accomplished. After a few moments, she stopped and burst into tears.

“Shhh,” Angel whispered, pulling her against him. “C’mere baby. It’s alright.”

Giles watched Angel gently comfort Buffy, mindless of his own wounds, intent only upon the emotional distress his condition was causing her. Quietly, Giles cleared his throat. Buffy managed to pull away from Angel and gave her father a questioning gaze.

"Buffy, please go get the first aid kit as well as a basin of water and a washcloth," Giles said quietly.

Nodding, Buffy pushed herself off the bed to comply. She was hugging herself tightly as she left the room, her clothes smeared with Angel's blood.

Carefully, Giles perched on the bed next to Angel. The young man slowly met his gaze, before his eyes flicked away shamefully. His voice was startlingly strong when he spoke, though his enunciation was significantly hindered by his split lip. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I'll leave, I just didn't know where else to go."

Giles frowned down at the young man he'd mentored for the last year and a half. "Angel, I know your home life isn't stellar, but certainly your father would - "

"My father did this to me," Angel said, cutting him off.

Giles didn't even know how to react to that. He had known that Angel's father was a mess. It was common knowledge among both students and staff at the school. But Giles had never dreamed that the man was so far gone. For him to brutalize his own son to this extent … Giles couldn’t even finish the thought.

Buffy returned and together the two of them managed to remove Angel's shirt entirely. The bruising to his torso was extensive. Giles could clearly make out fist marks in several places. Angel sucked in his breath sharply when his ribs were touched, but never cried out. After they'd wiped away most of the blood, Giles discovered there were only two open wounds, one at Angel's temple and the one on his right arm. Neither was deep and thankfully, they would probably heal without scarring.

Giles shook his head as he took in the young man's sad condition. "Angel, you need to go to the hospital. Your hand needs to be re-cast and these ribs should be x-rayed at the very least."

"Please," Angel pled, "I'll be fine. Just give me a few more minutes and I'll be out of your hair."

"You most certainly will not," Giles said sharply. "You are not leaving this house under any condition unless it is to go to a hospital."

Angel and Buffy both stared at him blankly. With a huff, Giles rose to his feet and paced a tight circle in the small room. He stopped abruptly, pinning both of them with his gaze. "I heard a nasty bit of gossip today in the hall," he said. "It seems that the rumor mill believes Buffy to be pregnant with your child. I would like to know if this is true."

Buffy's cheeks flamed in embarrassment and she found herself unable to look at her father. Angel carefully grasped her hand, twining his fingers through hers before squeezing gently. He looked at Giles. "It's true," he said firmly. "We've been trying to find the right time to tell you."

Giles groaned, sitting down heavily in Buffy's desk chair.

"I love her," Angel continued. "I will do everything in my power to support her and the baby in any way I can."

Removing his glasses, Giles polished them feverishly. "I suspected something was transpiring between the two of you," he said. "But I never dreamed it had gone this far." With brisk movements, he replaced the glasses on his face. "Well, this changes things significantly," he said. He stood again, heading for the door. "I'll be back. You are still not permitted to go anywhere."

Buffy watched, dumbfounded, as her father left her room, pulling the door shut behind himself. She had no idea what was going on. Shaking off her confusion, she turned back to Angel. Tears pricked her eyes again. He looked so terrible, all swollen and bruised. She touched his face lightly with the tips of her fingers. "Angel, you have to call the cops," she said. "He can't get away with this."

Angel shrugged, looking away.

"Are you listening to me?" Buffy pressed. "Angel, something has to be done about him."

"Baby, just leave it alone," he said wearily. "I'm not going to call the cops."

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "Do you want to look in the mirror? How can you just let him do that to you?"

"He has his own punishment," Angel said quietly.

"Nothing makes up for what he did - "

"He's miserable," Angel said shortly, cutting her off. "There's nothing left inside him. Nothing but rage and pain. I can't do anything to him that will be worse that what he's already in."

Buffy shook her head, clearly not understanding. Gently, Angel reached up and wiped away her tears. He took a deep breath. "My dad was always a loser. Wrong side of the tracks, police record, you name it, he'd done it. My mom was … She was great. Pretty, smart, from a really nice family. For whatever impossible reason, she loved my dad. He turned his life around for her, made something out of himself. He went to college, got a degree. He was working in a bank somewhere, saving up money for his own motorcycle shop some day. We all lived in this really nice house. And then … "

Buffy sniffled, listening intently. Angel had always brushed off her questions about his family.

"She died," Angel said flatly. "I don't really remember it. I was only four or five at the time. I just remember her being gone. And then nothing was ever the same. My dad just broke. And he never healed. He loved her so much. And when she died, he died with her."

Buffy cupped his cheek, tears streaming down her face. Angel smiled tightly at her. "He lost everything, the job, the house. We moved to Sunnydale. It was years before my mom's parents finally tracked us down. They took me away from him, took me home to their house. But by then, I was a lost cause too. I didn't have any idea how to behave in a real family. I got in tons of trouble, stole from them, disrespected them. They tried for a really long time, but I wasn't worth saving. They finally shipped me back to my dad. We've been like this ever since."

"Angel, you're worth saving," she said softly, her bottom lip quivering.

He smiled up at her again, this time softer. "I never believed that before I met you."

She was sobbing, torn between wanting to throw herself into his arms and not wanting to cause him further physical pain.

"What happened today - "Angel started to explain. "I went through some of my mom's old things. I found a ring she used to have because I wanted to give it to you. He caught me with her things and he just came unhinged."

"Angel," Buffy sobbed, horrified that this all happened because he wanted to give her something of his mother's.

"I can't hate him," Angel said. "I used to. I used to hate him more than anything. But now … " He gently rubbed Buffy's fingers between his own. "I can't hate him, Buffy, because if something ever happened to you, I'd end up exactly the same way."

Giles cleared his throat from the doorway and stepped in. He looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment and then took off his glasses. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and polished them furiously.

“Right then,” Giles began awkwardly. “I moved Buffy’s old twin bed into the basement and you should be fairly comfortable down there, Angel. I put linens on it and an extra blanket. The basement tends to be on the chilly side.”

Both Buffy and Angel opened their mouths to speak, but neither allowed a syllable out when Giles glared in their direction. This was not a time to argue or question.

“Now,” Giles continued, “Angel, we will take you to the hospital and have x-rays taken. You most certainly have a broken rib. You are welcome to stay in this house for here on out. Although you and Buffy have undoubtedly already had…er, relations, I will not find you in her bedroom at any time. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Angel managed to choke out. He swallowed harshly and risked a glance at Buffy. She was just as stunned as he. “Thank you,” Angel added gratefully.

“I’ve contacted an associate to gather your belongings,” Giles added. “He will be coming by later this evening to deliver them.”

“Mr. Giles, I really appreciate all you’re doing for me, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to send anyone to see my father-“

“It’s taken care of, Angel,” Giles repeated firmly. “I trust you will take care of my daughter with the same respect. She is the most precious thing in my life.”

“I love her,” Angel said clearly, clasping Buffy’s hand in his.

***

Angel did in fact have three broken ribs, a concussion and several minor contusions. Considering the beating he took from his father and the fact that his hand was already broken, he thought he came out of the situation in pretty good form. Especially since Giles didn’t try to kill him. He had expected nothing less.

He was strangely surprised that after his initial coolness, Buffy’s father seemed to accept the situation with as much ease as humanly possible. He didn’t appear angry or put out, even though he did, on occasion, have the tendency to glare.

When they got home again, it was after one in the morning, but a man was waiting inside the house. He stood in the dark with his hands clasped in front of him and on the floor at his feet was almost everything Angel owned. The man was tall and thin with a deep mesmerizing voice. Although he was pretty spooky, he didn’t seem to be much of a threat to a man like Angel’s father.

Giles stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for your help.”

“The balance between us is restored, Rupert Giles. Do not call upon me again,” the man said in his hypnotic, deep tone.

“I shan’t.” Giles answered gravely. “Peace with you.”

“And with you.” The man smoothly made his way to the door and barely made a sound with each step. Yeah, “spooky” was definitely the way to describe him.

“The balance is restored?” Buffy echoed. “What did you do for him?”

“I introduced him to his wife.” Giles said with a cocky smile. Unwilling to answer any of the questions about the strange man, he headed off to bed.

***

Jenny Calendar lounged against the library’s front desk, watching Rupert Giles scurry around his office with sharp, hurried movements. In body language, it practically bellowed ‘Go Away!’. But Jenny had never been one to be deterred by something as mundane as a frazzled librarian. “I’m not leaving, Rupert,” she called, “so you might as well come out here.”

He stopped and she could see his shoulders slump in a sigh. Several moments later, his head poked out of the office. “Thank gods, it’s you,” he said wearily. “I was afraid it was Mrs. Mernickey again. I swear that woman would have had an enterprising career with the Soviet Secret Police.”

“Well, what do you expect?” Jenny asked. She frowned. “Is it really true that Angel Roarke is living with your daughter?”

Giles bristled. “He is living in my basement. He is not living with my daughter.”

“But your basement is part of your house and your daughter does live there, so technically, Angel Roarke is living with your daughter,” Jenny pressed.

“Fine,” Giles bit out. “He lives with my daughter. But I’m afraid it’s not the sordid love den of adolescent passion that most of the office staff wants to make it out to be.”

Jenny motioned him over to the table and took a seat across from him. She was quiet as he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what did happen?” she asked quietly.

Giles sighed, replacing his glasses. “This can go no further,” he said in warning. He took a deep breath. “Angel was badly beaten by his father.”

Jenny sucked in a breath sharply. “I guess that explains why he’s not here today.”

Giles nodded. “He should be well enough to resume classes after the holiday, but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say the attack was vicious.”

“So you took him in?” she asked cautiously.

“What else would you have me do, Jenny?” he demanded in exasperation.

She put her hands up in surrender. “You’re right,” she said. “Please continue.”

“I’m afraid for once, the rumor mill is actually lagging.” He took another weary breath. “Not only was Angel attacked by his own father and now living in my basement, but I’m afraid he’s the father of my soon-to-be grandchild.”

Jenny gaped at him for a moment. “Wow. Uh, congratulations I guess.”

Giles stared at her, nonplussed. “I am not thrilled about the news, but there’s little I can do about it now. Angel and Buffy are both eighteen and regardless of the fact that they’re still in high school, they are both adults. While they’re living under my roof, there are stringent guidelines I expect to be followed.”

“But ... “ Jenny prompted.

Giles expression softened. “But I do think that Angel is a good man. He can’t be held responsible for the circumstances of his upbringing and I do honestly believe that he is trying. He wants to do right by Buffy. And having him living with his abusive father or in the back of a car or on some friend’s couch is not going to put him on track to be a responsible father. He had enough obstacles as it is, I don’t feel the need to add to them unnecessarily.”

Jenny nodded. “So on a different note, I guess your holiday plans are shot.”

Shrugging, Giles said, “Buffy is urging me to go without her, but I haven’t decided yet.”

***

The pain medication that was given would have kept Angel sleeping on the narrow bed in the basement for most of the day if Buffy hadn’t woken him up. When he inhaled her sweet scent, he thought it was a dream until he opened his eyes. She sat perched on the end of the bed looking dazzlingly gorgeous as she always did. The first thought after that was to wince in pain. So he did.

“Are you okay?” she demanded. “Don’t move. Do you want me to get you anything? Are you hungry? Angel?”

“Baby, calm down,” he urged in a grunted whisper. “I’m fine. I just need a shower.”

“Just need a shower?” Buffy huffed irritably. “Angel, you have a broken hand and three broken ribs. You need a nurse!”

Angel groaned as he dragged himself out of bed and headed for the door, bare foot and in black silk boxers. Despite his current physical condition, Buffy couldn’t help but drool. He was just so yummy.

He turned and smirked at the door. “You can be the nurse if you find the right uniform,” he said huskily and barely missed the pillow that she launched at him.

He trudged upstairs slowly and dug through the bags and boxes of his things for clothes to wear before making his way to the bathroom. He was overwhelmed by the idea of living with Buffy, being able to kiss her goodnight and see her in the morning. Even though he was living in the basement of their house, his living quarters were far more spacious and neat than his home with his father.

He couldn’t help grinning as he stepped into the shower. Giles had one little corner with his solitary bottle of shampoo with leave in conditioner and bar of soap. The rest of the shower was overflowing with female things like colorful loofas and razors that suction cupped to the wall. He counted four different kinds of soap and a veritable cornucopia of shampoos, conditioners and various hair treatments. It was like being in a store.

He took his time, not overtaxing his sore muscles. The pain pill was great, but Angel knew if he wasn’t cautious, he could do more harm than good. He’d cracked ribs before and they weren’t fun.

He toweled off as best he could and dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. By the time he made his way downstairs, Buffy had fixed him a sandwich. He smiled at her. “You never told me you can cook,” he said with a wink.

“Hey, if you think that’s impressive, you should see me microwave a burrito,” Buffy countered.

Angel feigned shock, taking a seat at the table. Buffy was picking at her own sandwich, leafing through a copy of Vogue. When he’d eaten as much as he could, Buffy cleared that table. “So,” she asked, “what do you want to do this afternoon where we’re home all alone while I’m on vacation and my father is stuck with an afternoon of teacher inservice?”

Angel chuckled at her, but sighed. “Honestly,” he said, “I would like nothing more than to ravish you all afternoon, but I don’t think I’m quite up to it yet.”  
  
Buffy was slightly disappointed, but she knew he needed his rest. She followed him back down to the basement, making sure he was comfortable. “You sleep,” she said. “I’m going to go upstairs and sort through your boxes.”

“Okay,” he murmured sleepily, drifting off.

***

Buffy wouldn’t have admitted it to her friends, but she liked the idea of taking care of Angel. Sure, she couldn’t really cook, but making that sandwich for him was sort of fun in a Susy Homemaker kinda way.

She looked at the big pile of boxes and bags in the living room and frowned. There wasn’t much there considering it was all of his earthly possessions. It would take a rental truck just to haul her stuff away, not counting her father’s things. She was glad they had taken Angel away from that bastard he called a father. She smiled to herself. Angel would be a thousand times better at being a parent.

She began making piles of things and soon was surrounded by various stacks. Twenty minutes into unpacking and she already had a load of his laundry going. An hour into the event, she had called her father twice and had talked him into stopping to get a dresser on the way home and a list of various other odds and ends that she said, “Angel could not live without.”

“Buffy,” her father had said dryly, “I certainly think that Angel can live without an area rug.”

“Are you going to make him live like an barbarian in the basement with cold feet in the morning?” she demanded in outrage. “Daddy, he could  _die_  of pneumonia!”

“Buffy, I seriously doubt-“

His disagreements launched Buffy into a ten minute tirade that made Giles feel guilty enough to buy every item she insisted upon. It wasn’t until he loaded up the car that he realized he just spent a hefty sum of money for the lecher who impregnated his only daughter. The thought had him scowling at the way home.

Buffy, on the other hand, was not scowling. She was thrilled with the arrangements and hummed as she continued to sort through Angel’s clothes and belongings, carting them down the stairs to where he slept. It wasn’t until she ran through the pockets of the clothes she was going to throw away, which consisted of what he wore the previous night when battling with his father, that she noticed something in his pocket. She eased her hand in and sucked in a breath when she found an ornate silver ring.

Buffy bit down on her lip. This was the ring he had been going to give her, the ring that got him beaten to a bloody pulp. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

That’s how she was when Giles entered the house several minutes later. She was sobbing in earnest and when he asked her what was wrong, she merely handed him the ring. Giles sobered as he looked down at the ring. It was a Claddagh. Giles had heard Angel tell Buffy that he and his father had ostensibly been fighting over the ring, but he hadn’t elaborated beyond that point. And aside from pledging that he wouldn’t desert Buffy or their child, Angel hadn’t mentioned any sort of permanent situation. But this ring, this was permanent. This was an Irish wedding ring.

Giles looked down at his daughter who was still sobbing on the sofa. No doubt, her emotional outburst was intensified by hormones. Pregnancy hormones. Despite everything that had happened, it was in that moment that the gravity of the situation fully hit Rupert Giles.

“There, there,” he said, absently patting his daughter on the head. He sighed. “I think I need a drink.”


	6. Chapter 6

Giles decided that going away to England was a good idea. Leaving the children behind in the house alone seemed like an even better idea. It wasn’t like Buffy could get any more pregnant. He didn’t trust Angel to keep his hands off of Buffy while he was gone, but he knew he would keep her safe and protected if they were alone in the house.

He flew out early Wednesday morning and although he knew the jet lag from such a short trip would be considerable, he was excited about getting away. He needed some time to think about the situation and mull over how he was going to share the news with his family that he was going to be a grandfather.

Angel had been waiting for Giles to leave the house before dawn on Wednesday morning. He listened for footsteps and for the door to open and close. He snuck up the stairs and watched his car pull out of the driveway. He waited for a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t coming back and then tiptoed up the stairs to Buffy’s room.

“Angel,” she murmured as he crawled in bed with her and spooned carefully around her body, making sure he didn’t bump any of his damaged ribs. “Is he gone?”

“Mmmhmmm,” he murmured. “It’s just us now.”

“You need to be sleeping,” she said drowsily.

He sighed, cuddling closer as one hand slid under her nightshirt to cup a breast. He nuzzled against the nape of her neck. “M go’in back ta sleep,” he murmured.

***

It was late morning when Buffy finally woke. She couldn't help but smile, nestled beneath the covers, all snug and warm with Angel. She sighed in contentment. But eventually contentment gave way to discomfort and she was forced to leave the bed to go to the bathroom. Buffy really hadn't given a whole lot of thought to being pregnant, at this phase it just didn't seem real. But little by little, junior was starting to make himself known. For example, Buffy had suddenly developed hamster bladder. Also, her breasts were so sore that it was a distraction. Thankfully she didn't have any morning sickness - yet. She'd read it could start with little or no warning. She really wasn't looking forward to that.

She was standing in the bathroom, looking at her still washboard flat tummy when Angel walked in, carefully wrapping her in his arms. He smiled at her in the mirror. "I think you have a while yet before you start showing," he offered, kissing her neck.

"Ha!" she countered with a snort. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who had trouble getting into the new Ralph Lauren pencil skirt yesterday morning. Angel," she whined, "I'm getting huge."

He looked at her in the mirror incredulously. He pulled her night shirt up again, studying her reflection in the mirror. "Obviously, you've gone insane," he said.

Buffy huffed, but turned around, leaning back against the vanity as she looked at him. "All right," she said, "strip."

Angel rolled his eyes, but very carefully removed his shirt.

Buffy winced. And paled. Good lord, he looked awful. Her fingers hovered over his bruises, but she dared not actually touch him. His ribs were a disgusting array of colors, green, black, yellow, purple.

“It’s worse than it looks,” he said, in an attempt to comfort her. “It’s really not that bad.”

“You’re all broken,” she complained. “I hope creepy guy kicked his ass.”

Angel grunted in agreement. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

“No, go ahead,” she answered. Smiling wickedly, she pulled his sweat pants down around his ankles and helped him out of them. He was fairly disappointed, however, when she nudged him toward the shower without so much as a kiss or caress. She obviously hadn’t played the same game of doctor and nurse that he was familiar with as a young adult.

He turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature and then stepped in, but as he was scrubbing shampoo into his hair, he was shocked to feel her slip in behind him. She reached up and massaged his scalp, slipping her fingers through his before guiding him under the spray.

“I think I was right before about you needing a nurse,” she whispered. She lowered herself to her knees before him and caressed his already hardening shaft. “This looks like it needs some attention,” she murmured and he groaned in agreement. He leaned against the wall and winced when he thrust his hips out too sharply into her hands.

She teased him mercilessly, laving long, languid licks along the underside of his shaft, before covering every inch with hot, openmouthed kisses. Angel was seconds from begging before she took her into her mouth, suckling just the tip. She moved shallowly at first and achingly slow, until he was making little whimpering sounds that caused her belly to clench in desire.

Without even planning it, she found herself engulfing more and more of him until she was almost taking all of him in. She caressed him with her hand as she pleased him, squeezing the base, stroking him and cupping his balls.

“Buffy,” he hissed in pleasure. “Oh gods, that’s good.”

She pulled back. "Don't overtax yourself," she chided gently. Once again her mouth covered him, bobbing on his hard flesh. His hand played along her face, gently caressing her, urging her to continue. She didn't need a whole lot of coaxing, taking more and more of him on each pass. She could feel the muscles in his thighs tensing even more, hear his breathing becoming more erratic. She was more than prepared when his back finally arched and he spilled into her waiting mouth.

He slumped against the shower wall and Buffy played dutiful nursemaid, soaping up a washcloth and gently scrubbing as much of him as she could without causing him pain. She turned off the water as it started to turn cool and bade him wait while she retrieved towels. She attended him faithfully, drying him off before wrapping a towel around her head and then drying her own body.

It was a testament to Angel's exhaustion that he did nothing more taxing than watch her as she towel dried her hair, combed out her long locks and slathered every inch of that delectable skin with moisturizer. When she took his hand, he docily followed her back to the bedroom where they both shed their towels and once again climbed between the sheets. With their naked flesh pressed together, they both drifted back to sleep.

***

Angel and Buffy slept for the half the day cuddled in each other’s arms as if they had been saving up their REM cycles for each other. Buffy enjoyed taking care of Angel while he was sick and he enjoyed it twice as much as she. He was sure he could spend all day watching her and began wondering what she was going to look like when her lithe body was heavy with his child.

On Thanksgiving morning, he woke up fairly early to find himself alone. He yawned and rose slowly from the bed, anxious to find out where his lover had run off. Shrugging on a worn pair of jeans that Buffy had left sitting on a chair in the corner of her bedroom, he shuffled toward the door. As he passed her dresser, he saw the Claddaugh sitting there.

He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. In all the excitement, he had nearly forgotten he hadn’t yet given it to her. She had polished the tarnish from the old silver until it gleamed brightly. He was touched that she knew it was for her and yet had not put it on her finger. Smiling, he slipped it in his pocket and made his way downstairs.

Buffy was humming along with the radio in the kitchen surrounded by all sorts of food that had yet to be prepared. He leaned against the doorway and watched her bop around the kitchen in a baby t-shirt that showed off her still flat tummy and a pair of shorts that looked a bit snug. Her blonde hair was in a high ponytail that swung around with her movements. She had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She whirled around to open the refrigerator and caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Startled, she jumped and pressed a hand to her chest.

“Angel,” she gasped, “you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said, smiling, moving toward her for a kiss. “Morning beautiful.”

“Morning,” she whispered against his lips.

“What’s all this?” he asked, gesturing toward all the food. He was amused that his pampered princess was apparently attempting to cook a meal.

“Thanksgiving dinner,” she announced proudly. “I invited Oz and Willow over. They’re bringing rolls and pies. I found one of my Mom’s old cookbooks.” She held up the tattered thing for him to see and then flipped through it, biting her lip. “I think I can do it,” she said with uncertainty. “I mean I’ve seen it done before.”

“I’m sure you can,” he answered, chuckling. “If not, we’ll have rolls and pies.”

***

Buffy wasn't what you could call a slacker. When she put her mind to something, nothing could stop her. But Angel knew there was more to this than her natural impulse to excel. This looked like some strange manifestation of a nesting instinct. It stood to reason, he supposed, that the fact that she was pregnant would start weighing on her conscience, especially since her own mother had died when she was so young. Buffy hadn't had the year upon year of mimicking her mother's every move that most girls had. Joyce died when Buffy was eight, leaving her in the care of her devoted, loving father, but largely high and dry in terms of female guidance.

Considering everything, Buffy had done exceptionally well compensating for a lack of feminine direction. It also explained, to a large extent, why she had taken fashion and appearance so seriously. Buffy had been flying blind. She had been so terrified of someone figuring out that she didn't have a clue what she was doing, that she took it in the other extreme. No one was ever going to look at her and think her mother had failed her.

But the downside to these events was that Buffy hadn't had the years of idolizing her mother followed by years of doing everything she could to avoid becoming her mother. She hadn't had a chance to internalize all of Joyce's mannerisms and then throw them to the wind in favor of her own path. In short, to Buffy, Joyce was still a goddess in whose shadow she would forever linger. Joyce's memory was a holy thing, a perfect thing that could never be tarnished in Buffy's mind.

Which was why Buffy was about to have a nervous breakdown over something so trivial as making Thanksgiving Dinner for three of her peers whose own culinary skills were limited to Kraft Microwaveable Easy Mac, frozen pizza and the fine line of Hostess prepackaged desserts.

She read over the recipes carefully before preparing each item, reading over the cookbook with meticulous care. The ingredients were set before her carefully and each step memorized before vigilantly preparing the dish. She was determined for this first meal to be the best she ever prepared.

***

“Well, wow,” Willow said, stepping into the kitchen with something akin to awe on her face. “I kinda thought you couldn’t cook. I mean you just don’t seem…the type.”

“I wasn’t,” Buffy said, scooting a water glass slightly to the left. She stepped back and peered at the table once more before looking up at Willow and smiling brightly. “Now I am.”

After Willow and Buffy set everything on the table in a festive display, Buffy wandered into the living room to retrieve Angel and Oz who were upholding their part of the Thanksgiving tradition by having beers and watching football. She startled when she noticed the newcomer.

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow said, “this is Xander.”

Buffy turned to look at her friend whose cheeks were flaming in embarrassment. Buffy quickly read the situation. Clearly, Xander had nowhere else to go. Buffy remembered Willow mentioning him before, they were best friends, but Buffy thought he lived in Oxnard. She put on her best hostess smile. “No problem, just let me set another place at the table. Nice to meet you, Xander.”

He smiled a small, self-conscious smile. “Likewise,” he replied.

Once Buffy and Willow were alone in the kitchen, Willow started chattering. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I didn’t realize Xander had shown up. He was supposed to call me if he was going to be able to make it.”

“It’s okay,” Buffy assured her. “The more the merrier. Besides, you know, sort of the spirit of the holiday. Refugees on a foreign shore and all.”

“And let’s not forget the senseless decimation of the indigenous population,” Willow added automatically.

Buffy rolled her eyes, she wasn’t having this argument again. “What happened?”

Willow turned, making sure that Xander wasn’t lurking within earshot. “His parents kicked him out,” she said. “He’s been staying with his Uncle Rory, but it’s ... bad. I think he maybe staying with Oz for a while.”

“It’s fine, Willow,” Buffy assured her again. “Any friend of yours I’m sure will be a friend of mine. And there’s tons of food. It’s all good.”

Willow set an extra place at the table as Buffy filled the serving dishes. She took a moment to reflect. Even six months ago, Xander’s arrival would have been a huge imposition. Buffy might have even shown him the door. But now? Knowing how similar his situation was to Angel’s gave Buffy unending sympathy for Xander. There was no way she could turn him away.

Ten minutes later, they were all seated around the beautiful table. Angel held Buffy’s hand. “It looks great,” he said with genuine awe.

“Yeah,” Xander added. “This is so much nicer than what my family usually throws together ... or at each other.”

***

Hours later, after the food had been decimated, everything from the olives to the pumpkin pie, they were all collapsed in the living room. Buffy hated football, but she loved cuddling with Angel. And there was something so lovely about spending a holiday with him as a family that just seemed so right. She snuggled in and after a few minutes of snuggling and thinking about how wonderful the holiday had become, she was fast asleep.

Angel smiled down at her as she snuggled in and murmured sweetly in her sleep. While they finished watching the football game and cleaned up the dishes, she slept fitfully, worn out from rising at dawn and fretting over every single detail. He didn’t wake her up when everyone finally left. He shifted their positions on the couch, wrapped himself around her and went to sleep.

On Friday morning, Angel woke up in Buffy’s bed to the sound to violent retching. He flung himself out of bed and clenched his jaw in agony as his ribs protested to the movement. Ignoring the pain as much as he could, he ran to the bathroom and found Buffy throwing up. He grabbed a washcloth from the linen closet, tossed it in the sink and gathered her hair back from her face. He crouched behind her and rubbed her back soothingly. When she was finished, he rinsed the washrag out with cold water and wiped her face. He helped her to her feet and was stunned when she wrapped her arms around him and started to sob.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, running his hand over her bed tousled hair. “It’s just morning sickness. You’re okay.”

“I-I k-know,” she cried, hitching breaths and holding him more tightly. “It’s just that n-no one’s ever done that for me before.”

“Done what for you?” he asked, tried to slide her back a little before she broke another of his ribs. When she wouldn’t move, he gave up and rubbed her back again.

“Held my h-hair when I was sick,” she explained pitifully. She sniffled. “That was so sweet.”

He smiled down at her sappily. If it was this easy to please her, he’d be happy to do nothing with his life except wait on her hand and foot. Abruptly as the crying began, it stopped and Buffy pulled away, eyeing the shower. She smiled up at him. “Join me.”

Like it was even a question.

Thirty minutes in the shower and a blow job later and Buffy shooed Angel back to the bedroom. He popped another pain pill and was half asleep by the time she finally re-entered the bedroom. Staring at her groggily, he noticed that she wasn’t dressed, or rather, undressed, for crawling back into bed with him.

“Buffy?” he asked, taking in her designer outfit and flawless makeup. If he hadn’t seen it himself, he would never guess she had been violently ill less than an hour earlier. She looked stunning.

She looked down at him, thrown by his apparent confusion. “You need to rest,” she said seriously, threading her silver hoops through her pierced ears. “There’s leftovers downstairs and I’ll be home before nine.”

“Nine p.m.?” he demanded, attempting to push himself up in bed until the shooting pain convinced him to lie still.

“Angel,” she said patiently, “it’s the day after Thanksgiving.”

He shook his head, staring at her, clearly unable to follow her logic train.

“It’s the biggest shopping day of the year,” she explained, somewhat irritated that he didn’t know something that was so clearly part of the human genetic memory.

He couldn’t help it, he laughed. Oh, how he loved his Buffy. No matter how much she changed, she always stayed the same.

***

Angel cocked an eyebrow when he saw it was Oz knocking, but he stepped aside and allowed him to enter. Wordlessly, they both went into the kitchen and made heaping turkey sandwiches. They were at half time of the UC Bolder and Nebraska football game before Angel finally spoke.

“I thought you’d be hanging out with Willow.”

Oz cocked an eyebrow. “Shopping.”

Angel frowned. “Willow doesn’t really strike me as the marathon shopping type.”

“Not thinkin’ she had much of a choice,” he said blandly.

“Well, that’s my girl,” Angel explained, holding in a grin.

Oz turned back toward the game, took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “She’s good for Will,” he said, towards the end of halftime.

Angel grunted his agreement.

***

“Buffy,” Willow hissed, turning as red as the negligee she was holding. “I can’t, um, this is just too ... “

“Too?” Buffy prompted, grinning unrepentantly.

“It’s just too  _too_ ,” Willow said triumphantly. “I’m just not a too kind of girl. I’m more of an  _oh_  or maybe a  _huh_. Definitely not a  _too_.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, reaching behind her back to undo the clasp on her bra so she could try on the sexy black silk nightgown. It was gorgeous. And it was on sale. Two great tastes that taste great together. “Well,” Buffy said absently, smoothing down the silk as she checked her butt in the mirror. There would be no point buying it if it made her butt look big. “You know the guys are hoping to tour a little next year.”

“Yeah,” Willow said cautiously.

“Devon was talking the other day about splitting the bill with Shy so they could save on costs. Which, I guess would mean that the skanky Veruca chick would be with Oz every day for what? A month?”

Willow’s resolve face slid into place. She had no doubt that Oz was faithful to her, but it wasn’t for lack of Veruca trying to steal him away. “So, you don’t think the red will clash with my hair, do you?” she asked, pulling her shirt over her head.

***

Buffy and Willow strolled inside the house looking like they just stepped off the cover of Cosmopolitan. Normally, the day after Thanksgiving was ear marked solely for sales and shopping, but since Willow was being initiated into the world of high fashion, she had to be initiated correctly. It wasn’t something a girl should do halfway.

Willow was dazed by what the day held. She also was proud at her ability to join Buffy in the world of the cool, yet still retain her own sense of self. Her clothes were funky and hip, her new lingerie was going to send Oz into a series of expressions but the biggest deal was her new hair. After debating with Buffy and the hair stylist for over an hour on what would be her perfect new look, she went with a choppy cut that made Veruca’s razor job look like an accident in the bathroom.

When they stepped into the house loaded down with bags, they left them by the door and strolled into the living room to check on the guys. Buffy tried not to shudder when she saw that the room was nothing but plates and beer cans and empty bags of popcorn. Instead, she and Willow waited for the guys to look up from their movie. She watched Oz’s face as he glanced up from the flickering screen and raked slowly over his girlfriend’s body in one of her new outfits and then her new chic hair.

“Do you like?” she asked, spinning for him. She was so cute when she beamed at Oz like that. Buffy just wanted to hug her.

“Uh huh,” he answered, rising from his chair immediately. “Angel. Gotta jam.”

“Oooh,” Willow squealed and then whispered to Buffy. “He really likes it. And did you see how he looked at me?”

“Mucho expression,” Buffy nodded.

“Uh huh,” she added excitedly. Willow’s glow was contagious. Even if Buffy hadn’t already been smiling, she would be grinning from ear to ear over the happiness on her friend’s face. It was so refreshing to be shopping with someone who didn’t pretend they knew every single item on the racks. Cordelia was great sticking her nose up at even the top designers. Willow, on the other hand, didn’t even know the ten sacred rules of shopping and it didn’t seem to matter.

When she closed the door, Buffy went back to the living room to find Angel cleaning up his and Oz’s mess. She excitedly told him all about their day as if he cared that she got Versace on sale or not. What was exciting to him was how happy she was, how a day in a bunch of stores with Willow following her around was so much fun.

But Buffy's happiness did give him more than a moment of personal shame. He knew from her recounting how many items she had purchased, despite the fact that she had found them on sale, she had no doubt spent a great deal of money. Her father's money. Giles was already letting him live in the house, providing him with food and shelter, not to mention the myriad other items now sitting in the basement. Angel was supposed to be proving he could provide for Buffy and their child, yet all he could think was that he never would be able to foot the bill for one of Buffy's shopping sprees.

Buffy tried to take the dishes from his hands, but he shooed her away. Cleaning up the mess he'd made was the very least he could do. However, his need to be self-sufficient came out more like a brush off. As Buffy's bottom lip began to stick out in a pout, Angel relented, letting her carry a glass.

They walked into the kitchen together and began silently doing the dishes. Angel rinsed the dishes and Buffy loaded them into the dishwasher. They were finished before she finally found the courage to ask, "Are you mad at me?"

He pursed his lips together, ashamed that he'd given her that impression. "Of course not," he said quickly, "it's just … "

"Just?"

He took a deep breath, looking at her. "Today just reminded me that there's no way I could afford to keep you in the style to which you're accustomed," he admitted quietly.

Buffy frowned. She hadn't even stopped to think about what Angel's reaction might be. Of course he would look at it from that perspective. How could he not? He was one of the most conscientious souls she had ever met. It shamed her deeply. Why hadn't she considered Angel's reaction?

But the truth was, this was an annual ritual. She hadn't given any thought to it. She'd just taken Daddy's credit card like she did every year and went shopping. Angel was right, if they were going to build a life together, things were going to have to change, but how and when and where remained to be seen. "I guess there's a lot of things I haven't really considered," she said.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said. "I don't want you to ever have to deny yourself anything because of me. I don't want you to pull you down."

She looked up at him, practically gaping. "You're kidding, right?" she asked incredulously. "Angel, being with you is never compromising. You … The way you make me feel. No one has ever made me feel half as special as you do. No one ever could. I love you. Being with you could never drag me down."

He couldn’t help but smile. Gods help him, but he needed to hear those words from her.

"But you're right," she continued. "If we're going to have some kind of life together, there's a lot we need to figure out. I mean, in theory I'm all for it, but I have to admit we haven't exactly discussed the specifics." She smiled up at him and quickly amended. "Not that they're deal breakers. I love you, Angel. I want to be with you no matter what. Nothing could ever change that."

He pulled her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Reaching into his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the Claddagh. "You're right," he said in a near whisper. "There are some things we need to discuss."

***

Buffy squealed in delight as she held onto Angel. He took the bike slowly around turns to keep from hurting his already damaged ribs and Buffy was careful to hang on to his hips instead of wrapping her arms around him. The night was clear and warm and neither spoke, sensing the reverence of the occasion.

Finally, they reached the outskirts of town and he pulled his bike on the shoulder of the road near a patch of woods. Silently, he led Buffy between the trees until they reached the end of a cliff that cut off sharply. Down below she heard a river or stream, but she could barely make it out in the darkness.

“When I was younger, I would run away from the house,” he said quietly, holding her hand. “All I wanted to do was escape my father, his alcohol and his women. Once I ran for so long I ended up here. I came back here a bunch of times. I used to pretend that she never died, you know? That we never left LA.”

He was silent for a while, listening to the soft rush of the water moving below them. Buffy tipped her head back and stared at the million stars in a hushed awe. It was a beautiful place. Peaceful.

Angel lowered to one knee before her and took her hand. He kissed her fingertips lightly, brushing them across his lips.

“I know there’s a right way to do this and this probably isn’t it,” Angel said, looking into her eyes in the dark. “I know you deserve so much more than I could ever give you but I can’t imagine my life without you anymore and I don’t want to. You are the most important person in my life and I love you more than I ever thought possible. I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. Buffy Anne Giles, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

He held his breath as he waited for her answer. He had his mother’s Claddaugh gripped between his fingers, poised to put on her finger or crush in his palm.

“Yes,” she whispered softly. “I’ll marry you, Angel.”

He released a harsh, relieved breath and his hand shook as he slipped the ring on her finger. “This is a Claddaugh ring,” he forced out. “It’s an Irish wedding band. The crown stands for loyalty, the hands stand for friendship and the heart stands for love. Wear it with the heart pointing toward you,” he said, tracing the top of the ring. “It means you belong to someone…like this.”

He held up his hand and showed her that he too had a matching ring. She lowered herself to her knees in front of him and kissed the ring on his finger before kissing his lips, gently wrapping her arms around him.

“I love you so much, Angel,” she whispered. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks and her voice was trembling as she spoke. “I wanna spend the rest of my life making you happy too.”

***

It was very late when they finally made it home again. Angel imagined he could almost taste the approaching dawn even though the sky had yet to lighten. They had spent hours staring up at the night sky, holding each other, talking. They both discussed their desires to be good parents and their total lack of knowledge of how to accomplish such a feat. Buffy voiced her terror about never being able to live up to her mother's memory, Angel voiced his terror about repeating his own father's mistakes. But mostly, they just loved each other, telling private thoughts they had never before shared with another human being.

Angel felt like a new man as he stepped into the house. He had real hope for a future with Buffy. He still knew he'd never be good enough for her, but she wanted him and he wanted her. Together, they could make a life.

He was quiet, letting her lead him up to her bedroom. Angel should have felt guilty about it, but he didn't. Giles wasn't an idiot. He had to know there was no way Angel would be sleeping in the basement alone while his future father-in-law wasn't even on the continent.

But when Buffy slowly helped him undress and pushed him back in the pillows, he started hedging. "Buffy, trust me, I want to," he said, "but I just can't physically."

She smiled, looking down at his already rigid flesh. "Oh, I beg to differ," she said saucily.

He mock growled at her. "I didn't mean that part was unable," he said pointedly.

"Is this a guy thing?" she asked, pulling her shirt over her head and quickly shedding her bra. Angel watched, entranced as she skimmed her yoga pants down her legs and then stepped out of her panties as well. She crawled over him, straddling his hips.

She bit down on her lip and gently grasped his cock in her hand, stroking him from root to head. He groaned, his head flopping back in the pillows. "You don't always have to be in charge, you know," she whispered throatily. "You need your rest, Angel. You just lie there and let me worry about things."

He couldn’t even speak, he just nodded frantically. She smiled down at him and positioned his cock at her luscious opening, sliding him into her with an aching slowness that had him hissing with pleasure. Angel felt like he was going to pass out from the sensation of being inside her again. He ran his hands over her curves, cupping her breasts finally and flicking his thumbs over her nipples. She arched her back and began a tantalizing rise and fall that was so slow he felt his thoughts unraveling. He wanted to pull her hips down hard over him and thrust up harder even though the act would probably injure him further.

“Aaannngel,” she whimpered as he pulled her down harder over him and resisted the urge to rut like a wild animal. Her inner muscles tightened around him as she moved over him. Her back arched gracefully and she slightly pivoted her hips, taking all of his rigid sex inside of her.

Her long blonde locks hung, stroking her back in silky waves. Angel wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it. He urged her down over him until each stroke scraped her nipples against his chest. He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her desperately, sucking and biting at her lips.

“Harder, baby,” he groaned, moving up against her. It hurt as much as it felt fantastic, but he was beyond caring. He needed to be one with her, completely inside her. It had been too long since he felt her silken channel with his own flesh and the decadent pleasure was stunning.

At his cue, she ground their bodies together only slightly harder, keeping them almost joined until they were both panting for release. Beads of sweat broke out on Angel’s forehead as he struggled to keep with the torturous slow grind. He was nearing the edge of his control and he wanted to weep with relief when he felt the contractions of her sheath around his cock. She whimpered, climaxing around him and he let himself go, fading into oblivion with her.


	7. Chapter 7

It was close to noon when he finally woke, alone in Buffy's bed. He was still sore, but it was getting a little better every day. Slowly, he got out of bed and stood in the doorway. "Buffy?" he yelled.

"Downstairs," came her reply.

Satisfied that she wasn't in any danger, Angel took a shower and changed into a wifebeater and sweats before heading downstairs. He was hungry and had been intending to find something to eat, but the scene that met him at the bottom of the stairs stopped him in his tracks.

Buffy.

Buffy doing aerobics.

Buffy doing aerobics in only a sports bra and a tiny little pair of bicycle shorts.

He couldn't have moved from that spot if his life depended on it. Sure, he'd seen her naked before. Yes, they'd had sex only a few hours ago. He loved her with all his heart. He was completely committed to her for the rest of his life.

But this was different. This wasn't the love of his life doing her best to maintain her health. This was Angel the loser getting to watch the prom queen stretching her hamstrings in hardly anything at all. There were males at school, student and teachers alike, who would kill for this view.

His jaw dropped. He stared and gaped with no shame whatsoever. He had no intention of moving himself from the spot where he stood unless someone forced him to do so. She jumped and bounced and twisted in the most wonderful ways and he, feeling like a voyeur, could do nothing but watch.

But he did that with enthusiasm.

It wasn’t easy to forget that he was engaged to and having a child with the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. She was the wet dream of the male population of Sunnydale High. At that moment, she seemed untouchable again, set high upon some pedestal where someone like him could never reach her.

It was at that moment, as he stared over her sensuous curves not yet rounded with his child, that he realized that he was luckiest man alive. He settled in against the doorframe and ogled her goodies until she got irritated and chased him away. He went into the kitchen whistling a happy tune.

***

Saturday was a fun, relaxing day that made Angel wonder what it would be like when they were married. She showered when she was finished working out and convinced him to take her for a spin on his motorcycle around town. He suspected that his sweet little prom queen was becoming a bit of a thrill seeker. The knowledge didn’t bode well for someone who just found out she was pregnant.

Of course, he had a few ideas on how she could achieve those thrills in relative safety, so it was all good. The ride was short and quiet. Sunnydale on the whole seemed to be recovering from the holiday. When they pulled into the drive again, Giles' car was home.

Angel hung back as Buffy bounded into the house to welcome her father home. Giles looked tired from his trip and he carefully looked over Angel, Buffy and the house. It was apparent to Angel that Giles knew his rules hadn't been followed while he was gone, but since he had no direct evidence, he held his tongue.

***

Monday morning was interesting. Angel was woken by Giles yelling down the basement stairs. He was still blinking, looking between the barely pinkening sky and Giles in question. Why on earth would anybody be up two hours early for school?

Giles merely shook his head. "Seems that in some respect you are still quite naïve," he said.

Angel's brow furrowed.

Pointing up the stairs, Giles said, "Trust me, if you aren't in that shower in the next five minutes, you'll have to wait an hour and a half for Buffy to vacate the bathroom."

Angel laughed. This was indeed a novel situation. Mock saluting Giles, he headed up the stairs. He doubted that Giles would appreciate him suggesting that he and Buffy could simply shower together to save both time and water. Nope, best to just shower now.

Freshly showered and changed, Angel headed into the kitchen intending to scrounge some sort of food for breakfast. He stopped as he saw that Giles had set the small breakfast table with three bowls, a variety of cereal, milk, juice and coffee. Giles was sitting at the table reading the paper as he sipped his own coffee. Looking up, he motioned Angel to the table.

Wordlessly, Angel took a seat. Was this how normal people got ready for school? He sat down and poured himself a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice. He was still at the table, reading the sports section when Buffy finally entered the room. She looked at the table and rolled her eyes. "Did he already give you the 'breakfast is the most important meal of the day' lecture?" she asked.

***

Angel followed behind Buffy’s car on his bike as they went to school on Monday morning. There was something surreal about getting up in the morning and having cereal and coffee with Buffy and Giles, then going to school together. He retrieved his book bag from her car and kissed her softly on the lips before taking her hand in his and walking toward the usual pre-school hang out area.

She turned and smiled at him as they strolled in comfortable silence. It was a dazzling smile, a I’m-going-to-marry-you-and-have-your-children smile. It was a I’ll-see-you-in-the-supply-closet-later smile. It made his cock jolt with desire. For a young male only in high school, it surprised him that the idea of spending his life with her was so appealing. The idea of making love to her thousands of times and knowing every inch of her body, every twist of her hips made his mouth go dry.

When the bell rang for them to head to their first class of the day, she kissed him so carnally every hair on the top of his spiked head singed. She strolled toward her class with Willow without so much as a glance behind her. He watched her until she turned around the corner and disappeared. He was so in love with her that the rest of the world just fell away.

“Is it just me,” Devon mused, blowing smoke out from his cigarette in the direction Buffy had gone, “or is your girl getting sexier?”

“It isn’t just you.” Angel groaned.

“You sure you’re gonna marry the prom queen, Angel?” he asked. Devon squinted up at the morning sun as if he had nowhere to go and nothing to do.

“Don’t make me kill you, Devon,” Angel growled. He was almost thankful for the break in mood. He couldn’t go into any class half crazy with hormones. Irritated was much better.

“Chill man,” Devon chuckled. “I was just asking.”

“And I’m just telling you,” Angel snarled.

Devon nodded casually, flicking his cigarette away to let it smolder in the grass. They fell in step together heading for their first class, metal shop. Devon seemed to be mulling something over pretty hard. Angel was surprised he couldn’t smell something burning from all the effort. "She's damn fine," Devon finally offered, "but are you sure? I mean, the band is really just starting to take off. Groupies, Angel. Groupies. How can you really think of tying yourself to one chick for forever?"

"I love her," Angel said tersely.

Devon sighed. "Yeah, but you should give it some time. I mean, that's gotta be a drag livin' with her and her old man. Sure, your pop is a jerk, but I bet Giles has rules and shit. Like, I bet he expects you to keep curfew. How can you live like that?"

Angel searched for a way to sufficiently explain the situation to Devon's little pea brain. He smiled as it came to him. "Cindy Crawford workout tapes," he said.

Devon came to complete stop, gaping at Angel. Cindy Crawford workout tapes were sacred things. Devon had already worn out three different copies. "Don't tease me, man," he threatened.

"She does them every morning," Angel said. "In the living room."

Devon looked away, clearly thinking hard. "Dammit," he cursed. "Maybe I should get married."

***

The day went by fast and the week faster. Angel, Buffy and Giles made up for the changes a newcomer brought into their lives and they fell into a mostly happy harmony together. Buffy and Angel were suffering by being forced to sleep separately but at the same time neither would ask Giles for permission to change the arrangements. And much to Buffy’s dismay, Angel wouldn’t sneak into her bed when Giles was in the house. All the pouting and flaunting of skin could not get him to go upstairs in the middle of the night.

Angel was all for fooling around in the living room and quickies in the supply closet at school, but she wanted to make love for half the night, not a  _wham bam thank you ma’am_. After a week, Buffy was simply done with trying to persuade him. She decided to bring out the big guns.

It was dark, the house was quiet and she was tired. It stood to reason that she should be asleep by now, but she wasn’t. She tiptoed to her closet and took down the box hiding in the back. Inside, nestled in tissue paper was her weapon of choice.

She discarded her nightgown and panties and slipped on the crimson negligee gleefully. She shoved the box back in the closet before looking in the mirror. She turned around carefully in the dark to look at herself. The bottom was short, barely covering the tops of her thighs and the top dipped down leaving an embarrassing amount of chest in plain view.

With a wicked smile on her face, she put on the matching lipstick she bought the same day and made her way to the basement as quietly as she could. He awake and sitting at the desk she made her father buy him with only the desk lamp to illuminate the room. He was bent over the desk, wearing only boxers.

“Hey baby. What cha doin?” she asked, posing for effect before closing in on him with a hefty swing to her hips. She was glad now that her bare feet landed on the area rug that she had fought tooth and nail for it.

He swallowed audibly and stared at her for a moment before answering. “You should be…ah…” he mumbled as his eyes raked over her body. He licked his lips and struggled to stay in his chair.

“On your lap?” she finished, smiling innocently at him. “Okay.”

She straddled him in his chair and rubbed herself against him.

Part of him wanted to tell her to march back upstairs and go to bed before her father caught them. But frankly, for all Angel cared, that part of him could fuck right off. One arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her to his healing chest while the opposite hand threaded through her hair, holding the back of her head so he could kiss her breathless.

Buffy wasn't even aware that they were moving until her back hit the bed. She started to push herself up into a sitting position, but he pressed gently on her chest, pinning her back against the bed. "Baby," she whined, "you're still all broken."

"I'm feeling much better," he countered, the warning in his voice evident as he used one hand to shed his boxers. She grinned, loving the fact that he was indeed feeling better. His bruises were fading fast and the cast would come off his hand next week. She knew he was anxious to get back to work at the shop. But right now, she could think of so many more exciting uses for his healing body.

He didn’t bother to remove her lingerie. Instead, he moved inside her, anxious to be hugged by her snug channel. They both groaned in pleasure at the joining and began moving together in a deliberate and tender rhythm. Moans were engulfed by long, enticing kisses and they devoured each other with mutual desire.

Long after they had finished making love, they held each other and memorized their lover’s body in inching caresses that took them full circle into lust once again. When the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, Angel and Buffy were dozing.

“You have to go upstairs,” Angel whispered, kissing her brow. She whimpered at the thought of leaving his warm body for her own bigger bed. “Your father’s going to wake me up in less than an hour, baby,” he said, nudging her gently.

Muttering under her breath in complaint, she rose from his side and padded up the stairs. Yawning, she climbed in bed and glanced at the clock. She would be sleeping through her classes later that day, but her in opinion it was completely worth it. As she drifted off to sleep, she idly wondered if she could sneak a nap in the stacks without her father finding her.

***

Angel was just pulling on his jacket as he saw the headlights of Buffy's car. "Bud, I'm takin' off," he called.

Bud grunted from underneath a '93 Buick. Angel just smiled. In the two weeks since he'd had the cast off, he and Bud had made quick work of the backlog that accumulated while he couldn't work. It was nice to feel useful again, and to be pulling in money. Christmas was a week away and he had yet to buy anything for either Buffy or Giles. But no gift shopping was going to happen tonight. Tonight was for the Christmas tree.

By the time Angel got out to the car, Buffy had already switched over to the passenger's side. It amused him to no end that she hated driving in front of him. Surely, she had to know he'd never openly criticize. But it seemed to make her too self-conscious.

He slid behind the wheel, leaning over to give her passionate kiss before anything else. She beamed at him and snuggled into her seat. He knew all too well that she had been excited about buying their first Christmas tree together as a family. Since his mother died, he hadn’t really thought much of the holidays. They were for people who had a real family and affection for each other. He grinned when he realized that after all these years he finally had it again.

There were a lot of people milling around Sunnydale’s only tree lot. Buffy and Angel nodded at several people they knew, but there wasn’t time to stop and chat. Buffy wanted to get the perfect tree and Angel was perfectly amenable to letting her pick over the less desirable specimens before she got the perfect one.

When they got back home, the phone was ringing. Angel hauled the tree in himself despite the massive size of the thing. Even with Buffy’s complaints, there was no way he was going to let his pregnant fiancé struggle with the evergreen.

Just as he was leaning it against the wall, Giles appeared in the doorway. His expression was grim as he held out the portable phone. “Angel,” he said tersely, “it’s your father.”

Angel stared at Giles for a moment before crossing the room and taking the phone from him. It wouldn’t have surprised him more if Buffy’s father had punched him in the gut. He held the phone to his ear and turned toward the window. He was well aware that Buffy and Giles stood listening. Neither seemed to have the desire to walk away and leave him in privacy. He could have walked out the room, but he didn’t feel the need to hide anything from them. They were his family now, not the broken man on the phone.

“Hello?” Angel said in voice that belied his frustration.

“Angel, I need your help at the bar. Business has been picking up for the holidays. Can you work tomorrow night?” Angel snarled at the phone. He wanted to be shocked, but he wasn’t. His dad always acted as if nothing had happened after he beat him. The only difference this time was that he had somewhere to go.

“I’m busy,” Angel replied.

“Look, we had a fight. No need to make a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Angel growled. “I gave that ring to Buffy because I intend to marry her and raise our child together.”

“So, you knocked her up. Way to fuck things up, boy. Always knew you were a chip off the ole block.”

Angel was dead silent for a moment. "I'm busy," he repeated, clicking off the phone. He looked up to find Buffy and Giles staring at him with so much concern he wanted to scream. He swallowed thickly, wishing to gods he could crawl under a rock and hide. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know how he tracked me down here. I don't think he'll call again."

Angel participated in the rest of the evening, but only physically. With Buffy's directing, he and Giles managed to get the tree into the treestand in a vaguely level manner. The thing was enormous, but as always, Buffy was prepared for this contingency and she managed to produce box after box of ornaments and lights. Angel did his part, hanging ornaments where Buffy directed, stringing lights where she couldn't reach.

He laughed and talked, but it was all just a sham. Just like his father said, he was a chip off the ole block. If he truly loved Buffy, he'd let her cut her losses now by walking away. He belonged with his father on the bad side of town in their shitty little trailer fighting and fucking just to remind himself he was alive and then drinking himself into oblivion when life got to be too much. But above all, he didn't belong here and he definitely didn't deserve the love that shone in Buffy's eyes when she looked at him.

***

Hours later, her was still awake, staring blankly at the dark ceiling. Thoughts whirled through his mind, logic warring with emotion. He was so intent on his internal dialogue that he didn't even hear Buffy until she climbed into the little bed with him.

If she had spoken, it would have given him the perfect opportunity to set her straight, to unload all the self-loathing that threatened to choke him. He could have reminded her why they could never work, why all he could ever bring her was pain and shame. He could have pushed her away for her own good, spared their child the horror of knowing his or her father.

But Buffy didn't speak. She simply wrapped herself around him and kissed him with such pure, gentle love that he couldn't stop the tears that wet his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her neck and clung to her. Tears that he had held in since he was a child, since he lost his mother, since he joined his father in no man’s land, came to the surface and he held her tighter. He held on to the one person who made all the difference and knew he should get up then and walk away.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, holding on to him even more tightly. “You’re everything to me, Angel.” Silence pressed around her. She smoothed her hands over his back and rubbed in wide, soothing circles.

“You’re not him,” she whispered.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. It was so easy to hold her in the dark, to feel her and smell her without having to look into those eyes that could see right through his soul. "I don't want my child to be ashamed of me," he admitted quietly.

"Angel," she said, sharply sucking in a breath. The depth of his pain never failed to wound her to the bone. "Our child will love you just as much as I do."

And for once, he pushed the pain away and let himself believe her.

***

Angel was breaking down his drum kit when he looked up at the young man sitting alone at one of the Bronze's tables. It was early Friday evening and Tommy, the manager at the Bronze, had given them the go-ahead to practice since they didn't have any bands scheduled. Normally Fridays would be prime real estate, but this close to Christmas, the schedule was dead. There were a few customers milling around, but not many. "Hey, man," he said to Oz, "isn't that Willow's friend?"

Oz looked up from re-stringing his guitar and nodded. "Xander," he said.

Twenty minutes later, they were done loading equipment and ready to leave. Oz and Angel stopped by Xander's table. "Busy?" Oz asked, nodding toward the comic book Xander was reading.

He smiled wryly. "Can't you tell?"

"Buffy and Willow are having some Christmas party tonight," Angel said. "I doubt there will be anything more exciting than the Island of Misfit Toys and some alcohol free eggnog, but you're welcome to join."

***

Angel was in hell. He didn’t mind Christmas or chaperoned Christmas parties. He was even willing to live with the fact that Buffy had chosen a teensy black skirt and a red silk camisole to wear that had his hormones raging on over time when he couldn’t touch her unless Giles wasn’t around. The sad part of the party was the mixing of two worlds. Buffy had graciously invited the Cordettes to attend the party as a sort of peace offering and unfortunately, they all had the nerve to show.

Cordelia Chase and her fashion police friends looked down their nose at him every chance they got and made snide remarks when Buffy wasn’t around. As much as Angel wanted to defend himself, he couldn’t very well kill one of her friends without her noticing their absence. He sighed into his eggnog. Pity.

Angel retreated to the kitchen where he was quickly joined by Oz, Xander and Spike. They were standing around bullshitting when Cordelia pranced into the kitchen in all her glory. Angel was steeling himself for some bitchy comment, but as soon as her eyes lighted on Xander, all the snobbishness vanished. Tight lipped, Cordy quickly grabbed a diet soda out of the refrigerator before turning on her heel and leaving. "Did I just miss something or did Cordelia Chase just forego an opportunity to insult me?" he asked.

"You're not wrong," Oz offered. "Plus, I think she was blushing."

Both Oz and Angel turned to look at Xander who was doing his best to memorize the titles of Giles cookbooks.

"Oh, this is too good," Angel nearly purred.

***

"What?" Buffy asked.

With a sigh, Angel lifted his head from her breasts enough to be intelligible. "I said," he repeated, "that Cordelia has something going on with Xander."

“Nuh uh,” Buffy snorted. “You had too much eggnog, sweetie.”

“If I were going to tease you,” he said huskily, inching her skirt up, “I wouldn’t waste the opportunity talking about Cordy and Xander.”

Buffy hummed in appreciation as Angel rubbed her through the silk of her red lace holiday panties. She ran her fingers through his spiky hair, smiling down on him. He didn’t benefit from it. He had his attentions elsewhere on her body. With a sigh, she looked at the festive tree they were laying under.

“Do you want your present tonight or tomorrow morning?" Angel asked.

She ground down against his denim-clad erection. "You can wait 'til tomorrow?" she teased.

"That present," he assured her, "you're getting tonight and tomorrow. I meant the one I wrapped."

"Well, in that case," she said, smiling, "now, of course."

"You have no patience."

"Neither do you. Now gimme."

Laughing, Angel reached out and dug through the presents under the tree until he found the one he was looking for. He handed it to her and she sat back, straddling his waist as she opened it intently.

As she lifted the lid off the small box, she gasped. "Angel," she said, her eyes shooting to his face. Very carefully, she pulled the delicate bracelet out of the box, avidly eyeing the way the tiny diamonds sparkled in the twinkling light from the Christmas tree. "How?" she flustered. "Why?"

"I hope you like it," he said. "I saw you looking at it in one of your magazines."

"It's beautiful," she said honestly.

"I want to see you in it," he told her seriously. She smiled down at him, dutifully threading it around her wrist. "I want to see you in only the bracelet," he amended wickedly.

Buffy looked down at him, scandalized but smiling. She glanced around the living room. "Angel, my dad could walk in at any time," she whispered.

"He won't," Angel said with a smirk. "Did you see how much eggnog he and Ms. Calendar put away tonight? He's out for the evening." Angel didn't add on that he'd seen his future father-in-law and the computer teacher doing some serious making out underneath the mistletoe. Right now, he was much more intent on his own sex life than Giles'.

“Good point,” she mused. “But first, I have to give you your present.”

“All I need is to see you in that bracelet,” he said, but watched her shapely backside as she rooted through the presents under the tree. Carefully, she balanced two boxes and set them in front of him. She twirled the bracelet around her wrist and watched him intently. It occurred to him to tell her she got him too much but he knew his little shopper would just be upset by the comment.

The first box was a bit on the larger side and he tore open the paper and lifted the lid. Inside were the black leather steel toed boots he had been eyeing for  _years_. They had to have set her – correction Giles – back two hundred bucks. His jaw dropped.

Buffy clapped her hands with glee. “Open the other one!”

“Buffy,” he gaped. He was speechless. “How did you know?”

“Baby, all I had to do was follow the trail of drool to the store,” she said, giggling. “Come on, quit stalling. Open the other one.”

Angel pulled her into his lap with a huge grin on his face and kissed her breathlessly. Keeping her in his lap, he opened the second present. Inside was a sleek black picture frame holding a picture of the two of them he hadn’t seen before. Buffy was in jeans and one of those tank tops he loved so much and he, apparently unaware of the world around him, had his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. He hadn’t been aware until that moment how his face looked when he was with her. It was plainly obvious how much he loved her.

"You like?" she asked, biting down on her bottom lip anxiously.

He smiled at her. "I love," he told her, kissing the end of her nose.

She nearly purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling against the underside of his jaw. She kissed his neck wetly. "Now where were we?"

***

The sun was already up on a bright Christmas morn as Rupert Giles made his way very slowly down the hall. He had to go slowly otherwise his head might explode. Lord, what had those children spiked the eggnog with? He hadn't felt like this since his Oxford days.

He groaned, rubbing his temple as he steadied himself with one hand on the banister. He turned, glancing inside Buffy's room and stopped. He blinked and looked again. He sighed, slowly turning and making his way down the stairs in defeat. Yes, Angel was asleep in Buffy's bed, curled around her body. Yes, it was painfully apparent that both of them were nude under the covers. But honestly, what could Giles possibly say about it on Christmas morning? He wasn’t sure if he had honestly expected the two of them to be capable of behaving under his roof anyway.

***

Giles was sitting at the kitchen table an hour later when Buffy and Angel finally came downstairs. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a glass of Scotch in the other.

Buffy gaped at him. "Daddy?"

Angel just snickered. "Little hair of the dog, Rupert?"

Giles glared at the young man. "Considering that I know you slept in my daughter's room last night," he said darkly, "perhaps you best cut an old man some slack."

“Uh..I think I’ll make breakfast,” Angel said, turning quickly toward the refrigerator. Giles groaned pitifully behind him. “On second thought,” Angel said. He quirked a grin as he looked through the refrigerator and cabinets. Having an alcoholic loser for a dad might pay off after all.

“Baby, where’s the blender?” Angel asked, rummaging through the cabinets. She looked at him with amusement as she pulled it out of a lower cabinet.

“Are you trying to poison us?” She looked over the various ingredients sitting on the counter. Angel just laughed as he blended his concoction. Buffy sat down and looked from her father to her lover and back again and held in a laugh as her dad swayed on his chair. When Angel set a suspicious glass of thick fluid in front of him, Giles looked at him in horror.

“Trust me,” Angel said. “It’s a proven cure for hangovers. It tastes horrible though.”

Giles gasped and turned green after the first sip, but with Angel’s encouragement, he kept drinking. He resorted to holding his nose and trying not to gag. Angel was ten minutes into preparing breakfast for everyone when Giles gasped, “That gruel you gave me is a miracle cure!”

“Told you,” Angel said, winking at Buffy.

She gave him a heart-stopping smile and hugged him. “Can I help with breakfast?” she asked cheerfully.

He smiled at her. "You have many glorious talents, my love. But none of them are to be found in the kitchen."

Buffy mock growled, but Angel flicked the hand towel, snapping her on the backside before finish his task sans help.

***

"This is just … I, uh, wow," Angel said, looking at the new jacket Giles had bought him. It was a leather jacket and wouldn't look out of place in his closet, but it was much nicer, and warmer than his other jacket.

"I noticed Buffy seems to have commandeered your other one," Giles noted offhandedly. "I thought it best not to let you freeze to death." He sent his daughter a pointed look, "Regardless of how unlikely I find that scenario given we live in Southern California."

"Your present is in your office," Angel said self-consciously.

Giles' brow furrowed, but he rose to his feet and headed for the office. Angel followed him nervously. After buying Buffy's bracelet, he hadn't had enough money to purchase anything for Giles, so he'd been forced to make something. He only hoped it was appropriate.

"Good lord," Giles said in awe, looking at the office. While Giles had been occupied with Ms. Calendar the previous evening, Angel had snuck in the office and installed the new wall of bookcases. He'd made them in woodshop and personally thought they were better quality than you'd find in most stores. But he still knew that some people wouldn't appreciate that fact.

Giles walked over to the shelves and lovingly ran his hand along the woodwork. He turned, looking at Angel. "Did you make these yourself?" he asked quietly.

Angel merely nodded.

"I can't … " Giles trailed off. "Angel this is a very thoughtful present. I can't begin to thank you enough. It's perfect."


	8. Chapter 8

Buffy and Angel spent the days between Christmas and New Year’s together as much as possible given that Angel refused to take any time off from the shop. Thankfully, his father hadn’t called again. Angel was amazed how much he felt he was part of a family despite the fact that he now had no contact whatsoever with his family members.

On New Year’s Eve, practically everyone they knew showed up at the mansion for another big bash after the band played at The Bronze. The Dingoes were playing the song at midnight, but Buffy refused to allow Angel or herself to miss the sacred New Year’s kiss. As Devon was screaming out the countdown, she made her way to the stage and snuck up to the side of his drum kit. One the count of one, she pounced, turned Angel’s face toward her and gave him the hottest kiss she could muster. No one seemed to care that Angel missed his part of the celebratory noise but several chuckled when he dropped his drumsticks.

Buffy and Willow waited around with the guys as they packed up their equipment and headed over to the mansion where the party was already in full swing. Everyone was drinking, couples were making out in corners and taking over the mansion’s many bedrooms. Given that Buffy and Willow hadn’t gone over to stake out rooms before the crowd hit, they were out of luck as far as having a private place to celebrate. Buffy pouted for a little while, but mostly it was a show for Willow. She would simply sneak down into the basement when she and Angel got home. Getting one of the rooms at the mansion was no longer the big deal it had once been.

But not having a room also meant that they got to spend the entire evening with the drunken revelers. Buffy kept pulling Angel into a quiet corner of the mansion’s sunken garden, but by virtue of being a very large, very well built man, people kept borrowing him to break up fights or pull Devon down off a ledge before he killed himself. Someone even asked him to help jump their stalled car in the driveway.

By the fourth interruption, Buffy’s patience was completely used up. As Angel shrugged sheepishly and allowed himself to be dragged off to see what was wrong with Larry’s car, she was glowering full force. She wasn’t about to play dutiful little woman, waiting patiently for her conquering hero. With a huff of indignation, she stomped back inside the mansion, snaking her way through the drunken throngs. She was in the kitchen, sorting through the various coolers looking for a soda when Riley entered.

When he offered her a beer, Buffy smiled but said, “Thanks, but no.”

“Buffy,” he whined. “Come on. You always used to party with us. Won’t you just have one for old time’s sake?”

Drying her hands off on her skirt she frowned. “Sorry, I can’t.”

He sighed dramatically. “Well, at least come hang out with us.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, glancing toward the French doors that led out to the garden. There was still no sign of Angel. But while she was irritated with him, she really wasn’t in the mood to goad him. And going anywhere with Riley Finn would most certainly goad Angel. “Maybe some other time,” she offered.

“Buffy,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “Please, just for a little while.”

Buffy smiled, but tried to extricate her wrist from his grip. She couldn’t. When he felt her struggling, he held her tighter. Normally, Buffy wouldn’t dream of being afraid of Riley. He was like a giant puppy, boisterous but harmless. But tonight he’d obviously been drinking freely. He was already swaying unsteadily on his feet.

“Riley, I need to go,” she said firmly.

“Just for a little while,” he pled. “Angel will never know about it.” He started pulling her towards the dining room where Graham and Percy and a handful of the other preppy jocks and their dates were hanging out.

Buffy tried again to twist out of his grip, but Riley was far too strong. Not that he was intentionally hurting her. It was just that in his current inebriated state, he didn’t know his own strength. She pulled harder but he was unaware of the struggle and continued to drag her in the direction of his friends.

“Riley!” Buffy finally shouted, “Let me go!”

“Buffy,” Riley said, stopping to drunkenly sway in her direction. He didn’t release his grip on her wrist, but tightened it. “Why’re you being like this? Come on-“

Riley stopped in mid-sentence and Buffy looked up just in time to see Angel’s right fist fly toward Riley’s shocked and drunken face. With his left hand he pulled Buffy safely from harm’s way, making sure Finn didn’t pull her down with him.

“How dare you fucking touch her!” Angel roared. He dropped down to where Riley landed and rained a succession of blows so severe that even the most drunken of the party began to get worried.

When Angel didn’t stop, Oz finally jumped in, trying to pull him off Riley. It was a futile attempt, but at least it got a few other people moving. Unfortunately, by the time Xander, Spike and Larry managed to completely pull Angel away, the cops had arrived. They saw what was going on and immediately had Angel pinned to the ground. Buffy started to run towards them, to explain it was just a misunderstanding, but Spike clamped his hand around her upper arm, steering her quickly towards the basement and a back entrance to the mansion. “Don’t even think about it, pet,” he told her. “You get arrested and we’ll never hear the end of it. He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.”

***

The sun had just crested the horizon and Buffy was sitting at the kitchen table, her hand wrapped around a quickly cooling mug of coffee. She looked up as the back door opened and watched her father enter, followed by a very sheepish looking Angel. Giles looked at both of them before saying wearily, “I’m going to bed.”

When Giles was gone, Buffy pushed herself out of the chair and went to Angel. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing into his embrace. He sighed, hugging her gently before carefully nudging her back a step. She was quiet as he gently urged her out of her robe. He sucked his breath sharply between his teeth as he looked at her clad only in her spaghetti strap nightgown. Her right arm where Riley had been grabbing her was deeply bruised from wrist to elbow. Angel touched her cautiously, testing her range of motion. She winced as he rotated her shoulder. “Baby, you have to go to the doctor,” he said.

She grimaced. There was no way she was going to the doctor. Once again burrowing into his embrace, she said, “I’m fine now that you’re home.”

Angel grunted. “Yeah,” he said derisively. “It only cost your dad a thousand dollars to bail me out.”

“A thousand dollars,” Buffy gasped. “Why?”

“Felony assault doesn’t come cheap,” he said wryly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “It was a misunderstanding. Riley was drunk and even if he didn’t mean to, he was hurting me. You were just protecting me.” Though she did tack on, “As ill advised as that may have been.”

Angel shrugged. “I have an arrest record, Buffy,” he said. “The cops aren’t too inclined to believe my version of events.”

“But Angel, you didn’t-“

“It’s okay,” he said kissing the top of her head. “It’s my fault. I can’t even blame this on Finn’s stupid ass.”

“But you explained to my Dad,” Buffy said eagerly. “You told him what happened, right?”

“I’m going to bed, baby,” he said gently. He wrapped pulled her robe back over her shoulders and nudged her toward the door. “You go upstairs and go to bed too.”

“No,” Buffy huffed. “You can’t just pat me on the head and send me up to my room! I want to talk about this, Angel. We need to fix it.”

“We don’t need to do anything, my love, “ Angel said, kissing her gently. “I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed and think about this later, okay?”

Buffy’s lower lip protruded. “You don’t want me to come down there with you?”

“I want to not entice your father to kill me tonight,” Angel said quietly. He kissed her softly and told her he loved her before she went upstairs and he went down. As she curled up in her bed, cuddling under the covers, she realized that he did exactly what she had not wanted – patted her on the head, told her nothing of importance and sent her up to her room. With that thought in her mind, she punched her pillow with her good hand before she closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

***

It was late when Angel got home from the shop on a Thursday night, the first week of February. He was cold, hungry and tired. He glanced at Buffy doing her homework on the couch, but didn’t speak to her before heading up and taking a shower. He was in the kitchen, helping himself to leftovers when she walked in. He looked at her, but didn’t speak.

“I was thinking that maybe we could catch a movie tomorrow night,” she said quietly.

He grunted. “There’s something wrong with the transmission on your dad’s car,” Angel said. “As soon as I’m done at the shop, I’m working on that.”

“Dad can borrow my car,” Buffy offered. “We haven’t had a date in weeks.”

Her emphasis wasn’t lost on him. By  _date_  she meant they hadn’t had sex in weeks. Ever since Giles sprung Angel from jail, Angel had felt inordinately driven to abide by his future father-in-law’s house rules. He stayed in the basement, Buffy stayed upstairs. They hadn’t even had a meaningful supply closet groping in weeks.

“Your dad paid my bail money, Buffy,” Angel pointed out sharply. “The least I can do is fix the man’s car.”

“Okay,” she snapped. “What is going on? You’ve been working like a mad man for weeks and I haven’t complained because I know you have this freaky hang-up about being able to take care of me and the baby. But dammit, you’ve been spending more time with my father than you have with me. And now you’re all grouchy about something else and you’re not even telling me what.”

Angel pursed his lips together, glaring at her. “My lawyer called this morning,” he said. “Apparently Finn dropped all the charges. Now, why would he do that, Buffy?’

She frowned, dropping her gaze to the floor. “So I talked to him,” she admitted.

He smacked the counter. “I asked you to stay away from him.”

“Angel, once I showed him the bruises and explained that he had been hurting me, he felt really terrible. Riley isn’t a bad guy. I think he really felt like he deserved to have the crap kicked out of him for what he’d done.”

“And the fact that I explicitly asked you not to speak to him doesn’t mean anything does it?” he demanded.

She growled in frustration. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at him. “You want to protect me,” she snapped. “Why can’t you understand that I want to protect you too?”

“It’s different,” he said flatly.

“Why, Angel?” she demanded. “Why is it different?”

“Because you’re a girl,” he yelled.

“Oh, so I’m strong enough to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to your child but I can’t have a conversation with someone to help you and our future?” she screamed back. “Is that what you’re saying? You’re the big man, you do all the work and all the protecting and I’m seen and not heard, is that it?”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, Buffy. Has it even occurred to you that I have nothing to offer to you but my protection and the money I earn for us?” he said, glowering down on her. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to see chick flicks, but I’m trying to take care of our family!”

“I need more than a working car from you, Angel!” she shouted. “Can’t you spend an hour with me, hell, maybe even two? You can’t make love to me ‘cause you’re afraid of my father?”

“Is that what you think, Buffy?” Angel roared. “If I don’t break your father’s rules and fuck you on a regular basis then I’m not taking care of you? So, if I give it to you right now on the kitchen floor, maybe I can fix your dad’s car and we can skip the movie?”

Buffy’s jaw dropped open and despite her struggle, tears sprung from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. She stared at him through wounded eyes and didn’t bother to wipe her face. “I can’t believe you said that to me.”

“Buffy,” he said gently, stepping toward her.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she said, in a low, cold voice. The cut of her voice and the hurt in her eyes was like a knife to the gut. He had never seen the warmth go out of her like that before. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the room and flinched when she heard the back door slam behind him.

***

“Ah yes, then,” Giles said uneasily as he opened the door to Willow on Saturday morning. “Thank you so much for coming over. Ah, Buffy’s upstairs and I’ll just be completely unavailable for several hours. Thanks so much.”

Willow watched wide-eyed as the normally reserved librarian brushed past her and out the door. She shrugged and stepped inside the house, closing the door behind her. Buffy had been out sick on Friday but Willow hadn’t really thought much about it. Apparently it was much more serious than she’d thought if Buffy’s dad would go so far as to call her over to talk to his daughter.

Receiving no answer when she knocked on Buffy’s bedroom door, Willow tentatively pushed the door open. “Oh, Buffy,” she gasped. She ran to the bed where Buffy was lying, her eyes and nose red and puffy from near ceaseless crying. “Buffy, what’s wrong?”

“A-a-angel,” Buffy sobbed.

“Did something happen to him?” Willow asked, frantic.

“He left me,” she wailed. Willow helped Buffy sit up in bed and then listened as she recounted the story of their recent troubles, their fight and Angel’s departure. “He hasn’t called,” Buffy said morosely. “Nothing. Not even a note.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to give you some space,” Willow offered helpfully.

“I don’t need space,” Buffy pointed out. “I just need ... I just need him.”

Willow hugged Buffy. “I’m sure everything will work out,” she said, trying to be optimistic.

Buffy sighed. “The fact that I’m feeling huge and unattractive and my hormones are all wonky isn’t helping either,” she admitted. “I just can’t believe he just walked out without a word. I mean, we’ve argued before, but he’s never just left.”

“It’s a guy thing, I think” Willow offered. “Sometimes they just have to bail in the middle of an upsetting conversation. Oz has tried to explain it to me before.”

Buffy’s lower lip trembled as tears threatened to spill once more. “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Buffy, he’ll come back,” Willow said with her resolve face set firmly in place. “I know what you’re thinking, but Angel, he loves you. He’ll be back.”

“Will, he’s been gone for days and I’m so afraid,” she whimpered. “What if really left me?”

“Buffy…I’m sorry.” Will said, grabbing her hand. “It must be horrible.”

“I think horrible is still coming,” Buffy choked. “Right now, it’s worse. Right now, I’m just trying to keep from dying.” Sobs wracked her body as she leaned over and laid her head in Willow’s lap.

***

By Monday morning, Buffy still hadn’t heard from Angel at all but much to Giles’ surprise, she got up and went to school. She knew if she stayed home again, sitting around eating chocolate and feeling sorry for herself, she wasn’t going to get any better. She had to try to keep living even if she felt like she was dying. She had a baby to think about.

She made it until lunchtime before she saw Angel. He looked like he had been rode hard and put away wet. He had several days growth of beard on his face, he was wearing the same jeans he left in on Thursday night and the snug t-shirt he wore looked like it belonged to Oz. His eyes were bloodshot and the way he was moving told her he might still be drunk. Instead of eating lunch, he was sitting on the end of the table with his head in his hands.

“Buffy,” Percy called out. He jogged past Angel’s table and snorted as he got closer to her. “I heard you and The Loser broke up. That’s too bad.”

Buffy’s eyes widened from his insensitive words and she stepped back in shock. Percy didn’t notice as he turned around to face the table. He cocked his head to the side as he looked over Angel.

“Damn, Buff,” Percy added, “I didn’t realize just how much you cleaned him up until just now.” Percy chuckled and turned to face her again, grabbing her hand. “So if you’re done with him, maybe you wanna give me another shot.”

“Percy,” Buffy managed to choke out. She was about to clue him in on the fact that she was pregnant with some other guy’s kid so she probably wasn’t going to be dating anyone in the near future, but she didn’t get that much out before Angel had made his way to where they were talking. He picked Percy up off the ground by his shirtfront and slammed him against the wall.

“Do you want to die?” Angel snarled.

Buffy immediately burst into tears and was sobbing so uncontrollably that Angel dropped Percy and scooped her into his arms. “Buffy?” he asked, slightly frantic. “Baby?”

She stopped sobbing long enough to pull herself out of his embrace and she smacked him as hard as she could in the middle of the chest. “How could you do that?” she demanded.

Angel blinked down at her and then looked at Percy, who was trying to slink away. Angel seemed to deflate. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Buffy grabbed his arm before he could turn away. “What are you talking about?” she asked in pure exasperation.

“You seemed pretty upset that I touched your new boy toy,” he snapped.

Buffy looked from Angel to the cowardly jock. “Percy?” she asked incredulously. “Percy can take a flying leap. I was talking about you leaving me.”

“Oh,” Angel said. Then the light bulb seemed to go on over his head. “Oh,” he repeated, much more upbeat.

“Where have you been?” Buffy demanded. She lightly fingered the worn edge of his t-shirt. “You look terrible.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after the things I said,” he admitted quietly.

She looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. “I love you,” she said softly.

Without a word, Angel grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the lunchroom. “Where are we going?” Buffy asked, trotting to keep up with him.

“Supply closet,” he said tersely.

***

Giles merely nodded at Angel later that night as he walked in the door and shrugged out of his jacket. Though nothing had been said, he surmised from Buffy’s much improved mood that whatever conflict transpired between her and Angel had been resolved. The look on Angel’s face confirmed as much.

“Where is she?” Angel asked, walking over to the sink to wash the grease off his hands.

“Taking a bubble bath, I believe,” Giles replied.

Angel nodded and an odd, strained silence descended between the two.

“So, uh, Friday is Valentine’s day,” Angel said.

“Ah, yes, I believe it is,” Giles concurred.

“Any plans?” Angel asked.

Giles pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Why do you ask?”

“I just thought maybe you and Ms. Calendar might be spending some quality time… _somewhere_.”

“Jenny and I don’t have any plans, so far as I’m aware,” Giles replied.

Angel nodded. Silence descended again. “Okay, the thing is,” Angel finally said. “Rupert, I respect you more than I’ve ever respected anyone in my life. The chances that you’ve given me, the things you’ve done for me, I can’t begin to repay you for that.”

Giles looked at him expectantly.

“But man,” Angel said sighing, “I need some quality alone time with Buffy on Friday and I’d rather not have to sneak around behind your back or rent a motel room or something.”

“Well, then,” Rupert said, looking around the room, anywhere but at Angel. “Perhaps I could, uh,” he said, rising out of his chair, “make other arrangements,” he mumbled, walking out of the room.

***

On Valentine’s Day, Buffy woke up at her usual time and swung her legs over the side of the bed. As she was preparing to stand, she noticed a yellow blur on the floor. Curious, she blinked her sleepy eyes open and saw that a single rose lay at her feet with a note beneath it. Smiling, she picked them both up.

The card simply had flowers on the front. Inside it read: “Happy Valentine’s Day, Buffy. I love you. Follow the yellow roses. Angel.” She slipped on her robe and carried her rose to the door where she found another. She scooped it up and kept going, picking up a yellow rose every couple of feet. Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she opened the door to the spare bedroom ala junk room.

She sucked in a breath as when she walked inside. Turning around, she took in the changes of the room. He had painted the walls a cheerful pale yellow and they were covered with hand painted characters from Winnie the Pooh. There was beautiful furniture, all hand made with intricately carved designs in the wood. She ran her fingers over each one in turn – a cradle, a little bitty dresser with tiny silver knobs on the drawers, a changing table and in the far corner was a big rocking chair. In the chair sat a big brown teddy bear with a red bow around his neck and half a dozen yellow roses in his lap.

She made it full circle and found Angel leaning against the doorway looking nervous and freshly showered in just a pair of blue jeans. He looked over her face and scanned the room before looking at her again. He searched his mind for something to say and came up surprisingly blank.

She sniffled, a tear trailing down her cheek. "You did all this for me?"

He shrugged. "Actually, I did it for the baby. You're little, but I think you're probably too big for most of this furniture."

She frowned at him, walking over to where he stood to wrap her arms around his chest. "Stop being funny," she sniffled.

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her. "All right, baby," he said. "No more jokes. Yes, I did this for you and our child."

"Th-th-that's so sweet," she cried.

***

Oz joined Angel at the lunch table, slowly taking in his appearance. Over the last five months, Angel's style had changed quite a bit. But the change happened so slowly, that you didn't notice until you saw him the way he was looking earlier in the week. Little by little the stained jeans had all been exchanged for sturdy but slightly more fashionable replacements. The wifebeaters now only came out at band practice or if you stopped by the shop. His leather jacket and boots were still vintage Angel, yet much nicer than anything he'd previously owned. He was still all lean muscle, but he no longer had the slightly haggard, underfed look. All in all he appeared downright respectable.

"You're looking better," Oz noted..

Angel nodded. "I'll get your shirt back to you next week."

"No problem."

Oz looked around the cafeteria and back to Angel. "Can't help noticing that while you look better, Buffy looks worse."

Angel looked over at Buffy who was standing in line with Willow, experimentally prodding something that claimed to be a cheese derivative. Her eyes were still red rimmed, but she was smiling happily. "It's good crying," Angel explained.

Oz frowned. "Guess I’m not familiar with that one," he said.

Shrugging, Angel said, "I don't get it either. I turned the spare bedroom next to hers into a nursery for the baby. Showed it to her this morning. She burst into tears. All I know is that good tears are much better than bad tears."

Smirking Oz asked, "So I guess you probably have Valentine's Day plans?"

"I have lots of Valentine's Day plans," Angel said deviously.

***

"I still can't believe you asked my dad to go out for the night," Buffy said, scandalized.

Angel snorted. "He needed an excuse to see Ms. Calendar anyway."

"I don't know about her," Buffy hedged. "She tried to take him to that monster truck rally a few weeks ago."

"Buffy," Angel said in exasperation, "I am not going to spend all night talking about your father's social calendar, now quit hiding in the closet and come out here."

She poked her head around the corner frowning. "I can't," she said, her bottom lip protruding.

"Why not?" he asked, pushing himself off the bed and stalking over to her.

"I look so fat in this, Angel," she whined.

He smirked at her in pure carnal appreciation. Buffy was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even more so now that she was finally showing. She wasn't due until the middle of July, but she already had what he lovingly called 'the bump'. She was so deft with fashion that when she was dressed, you really couldn't tell, but wearing nothing more substantial than the black silk nightgown that draped her every curve, it was very evident. "So take it off."

"Very funny," she chided.

He sighed. He truly did think that her changing body was breathtakingly beautiful, but the cold hard truth of the matter was that he hadn't had sex in a month and a half. The make-out session in the supply closet the previous day was good, but it didn’t come close to actually making love with Buffy. She could have been covered in slime and wearing a potato sack and it wouldn't have slowed him down. Not that she would appreciate that tidbit of information. "You're not fat, you're pregnant."

"Yeah," she snorted, "like I'm really appreciating the difference when I can't see my feet anymore."

"If you lay down on the bed, I'll throw your feet over my shoulders and you can see them then," Angel offered helpfully.

“You’re cracking me up,” she said dryly. “Really.”

“Come out,” he demanded playfully. He walked around to the closet and opened the door wider to see that she was frowning at herself. “Baby, you’re beautiful.”

“I’m fat,” she complained, moving away from him and more into the closet. “Now stop looking. I’m taking this off.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You are.” He swept her off her feet and into his arms. The amount of steps it took from the closet to bed seemed unreasonable but he managed it without exploding. He set her gently against the pillows and moved between her hips. He kissed her ravenously before sliding down her neck with hot, wet openmouthed kisses. He nibbled along her collarbone, trying desperately to slow himself down.

“Gods, I crave you,” he murmured against her shoulder, tasting her flesh there. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Despite her very real belief that no man could possibly find her attractive in her current physical state, Buffy was forced to re-evaluate that stand in light of Angel’s very pronounced erection rubbing against her thigh. “You’re insane,” she muttered between kisses, “but that’s probably why I love you so much.”

His hands swept over her body, trailing up her thigh, pulling the nightgown with it. With her help, they pulled the material over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her fingers immediately went to work, peeling his t-shirt off while he fumbled with his belt. Angel jumped off the bed only as long as it took to kick off his shoes and lose the rest of his clothing. Buffy took the opportunity to reach over and click off the bedroom lamp.

Angel frowned in the darkness, but decided it would be infinitely easier to humor her. When he joined her on the bed again, they were both blissfully nude. Angel nearly purred in satisfaction at the raw sensory pleasure of having her bare skin against his own.

***

Saturday morning, Buffy woke up in Angel’s arms. She stretched languidly, rubbing her body against his before rushing off to the bathroom and vomiting out her morning sickness. As annoying as it was, she was getting used to it now and so she was already humming when she stepped in the shower minutes later.

She was rising shampoo out of her hair when Angel stepped into the shower with her. He looked sleepy and grouchy and carnally delicious. She immediately turned toward the spray to hide the front of her body from him and thought it was a shame she couldn’t look directly at him. While she was bloated and fat with a queasy stomach, he was lean and muscular and delicious.

“No, no,” he grouched, spinning her back around easily on the slippery floor. “Don’t hide from me, baby.”

“Angel-“ she started, but he covered her mouth with his own, pressing his body against hers. Much to her dismay, he began kissing down the front of her body, loving every part of her that she was trying to hide. Before she could protest, he moved between her thighs, pressing his face into her moist folds. Carefully, he tossed both of her legs over his shoulders and leisurely traced his tongue over her nether lips before teasing her open. He found her little nub and lapped at it until she had forgotten all about him seeing her and was writhing against his mouth.

An hour later, when they were both glowing from the aftermath of steamy shower sex, Angel led her back to bed. She yawned and closed her eyes, deciding that another few minutes of sleep might be nice for a lazy Saturday. When Angel crawled in bed with her and curled his body against hers, however, she was confused.

“You’re not going to work?” she asked, stunned. She rolled over to face him.

“I took the day off.”

“So…you’re not going in at all?” she repeated. She couldn’t even remember them spending a single Saturday together unless he was hurt. There was no way he just took the day off.

“I heard what you said when we were fighting,” he admitted. “You were right, I need to make time for us. So, I took the day off. If we ever get out of bed – which I really hope we don’t – I’ll take you out to lunch and to your little chick flick.”

***

“Oooh,” Buffy chirped, “what’d ya get?”

Angel dropped the plastic bag on the counter and leaned over to kiss Buffy gently on the lips. She kissed him eagerly, but quickly turned her attention to the DVDs he had rented. “You got the Princess Bride,” she said, tears twinkling in her eyes.

He looked at her like one would look at a wild animal. Her behavior these days was completely erratic going from soaring highs to bottomless lows in the blink of an eye. “You told me to get it,” he said carefully.

“Well, yeah,” she sniffled, “but you did.”

He held very still as she hugged him.

An hour later, they were curled up on the couch, eating popcorn as they kicked off Spring Break with a mini movie fest. Willow and Oz were curled up in the oversized armchair. Cordy and Xander were getting soda in the kitchen. Nobody was mentioning that they’d been ‘getting soda’ for the last half hour.

Angel was sitting up, leaning against the arm of the couch. Buffy was lying on her side, her head pillowed on his thigh. As Angel popped a kernel of popcorn in his mouth with one hand, the other absently rubbed Buffy’s stomach.

Buffy felt his body go rigid and she looked up at him in question. He was staring at her, wide-eyed. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He looked at his hand, on her stomach. “The bump moved,” he whispered.

She smiled at him goofily. “It does that every now and then, Angel. It’s a baby.”

He looked at her helplessly, “Well, yeah, but it’s .. it’s ... “

She sat up and kissed him on the cheek. “Welcome to parenthood, daddy.”

Angel was stunned. He knew she was pregnant and logically he understood that would mean she was carrying a child in her womb, but until the baby moved it hadn’t really hit him that he was going to be a father. Inside his lover’s rounded belly was an actual living little person. He continued to keep one hand spanned over her stomach and the other in the popcorn while he stared ahead lost in thought.


	9. Chapter 9

Time had really flown from Valentine’s Day and into Spring Break and flew faster still to the end of the school year. By the beginning of May, everyone was talking about graduation and what they were going to do after school was over. Buffy applied for college for the fall at UC Sunnydale and was making plans for the baby. Buffy squealed with happiness when she found out that Willow, who had been accepted to every University with a stamp, decided to stay in boring ol’ Sunnydale. The only Dingo matriculating with the college’s newest class would be Oz. The rest of the Dingoes were mostly focused on their summer tour around the West Coast.

The week before graduation, everyone was suffering from massive amounts of Senioritis and couldn’t wait to walk across the stage. Buffy was seven months pregnant and depressed from the stares she had to endure the whole semester. She felt like everyone was whispering, “Hey, look at the pregnant girl!”

She was relieved no one had actually said anything to her, even though she was certain there was only one reason why she wasn’t being made fun of right now. Angel probably threatened the whole school. She could already hear the growl in his voice as he described to someone how they would be using crutches to get across the stage for saying something mean to her. She sniffled at the thought. It really was sweet. It didn’t change the fact that she was going to have to graduate in a week with a huge belly and pronounced waddle.

Angel had decided to take off from work early that night and surprise Buffy by taking her out to dinner. He found her weeping in front of her full-length mirror in her bra and panties.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered. Picking up his step, he pulled her into his arms. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“E-everyone’s t-talking about the p-pregnant girl,” she sobbed. “They’ll all m-make f-fun of me at graduation.”

“No baby,” he crooned, feeling a full measure of guilt partially because it was his fault she was pregnant and partially because he was lying through his teeth. They probably would talk about her at graduation.

“A-and then you’ll beat them up and then you’ll get arrested,” she continued, sobbing wholeheartedly. “And you haven’t said anything about m-marrying me.”

He held her tighter. "You said you wanted to wait until after graduation," he reminded her gently.

"Well, yeah," she said, her voice shrill and slightly hysterical, "but if we wait too long, the baby is going to be here and I don't want to be an unwed, teenage mother."

He rocked her slightly. "Okay, so graduation is the first week of June. When do you want the wedding?"

"I don't know," she wailed, snuggling into his embrace.

He rocked her, smiling despite his frustrations. "What if we do it graduation night, since everyone will already be around?" he offered.

She looked up at him. "That's uh," she said, brow furrowing. She extricated herself from his embrace and sat down at her desk, leafing through her day minder. "That's a really good idea," she finally announced.

"Okay," he said, waiting for her to change her mind.

She sniffled one last time, rubbing her nose with a tissue. "Yeah."

"We should probably mail invitations," he said.

***

Willow looked at Angel's sober countenance as he opened the door. "She's in the kitchen," he said.

She couldn't help but snicker, thinking about a time when Giles had done almost the same thing. She followed him through the house to the kitchen where Buffy was seated at the small breakfast table. The tabletop was overflowing with various items, catalogs, magazines, stack and stacks of graduation invitations.

Angel sat down and indicated the vacant seat for Willow. As she took the seat, she saw that Buffy was leafing through bridal magazines and invitation catalogs, her eyes puffy and red rimmed. "What about this one?" she asked, holding up a magazine to Angel.

He made a sharp hissing noise and pointed at Willow. "I'm a guy," he said. "I have no opinion. I went and found you another girl so she could help."

Buffy smiled weepily at him. "That's so sweet."

Angel looked at Willow. "She's gone completely insane," he said seriously. With a huff, he turned back to the graduation invitations he was addressing. Most of the enormous stack was Buffy's. With relatives and family friends scattered over two continents, she was sending out nearly two hundred invitations. Angel himself had mailed only four. One to his maternal grandparents with whom he hadn't had any contact in nearly six years, one to Bud at the shop, one to his cousin Doyle in Los Angeles and after much deliberation, one to his father. Though the last one was sent mainly to let the old man know that he had graduated without his help.

Angel was stuck in his own version of hell. Yes, he felt compelled to help Buffy out however he could, but he had his limits. It wasn't enough that they had both their graduations and the wedding to account for, there were also the rest of the trappings. Willow was throwing Buffy two separate bridal and baby showers. Devon had informed Angel there would be a bachelor party. Between all the social events, Angel didn't have a moment of peace. What little spare time he did have was spent working extra hours at the shop to save up money, putting the finishing touches on the nursery or merely taking the time to hold Buffy and remind himself why he was doing all of this.

He kept telling himself that if he could just make it through the month, then everything would be better. The band would go on tour, he would be happily married to Buffy and the baby would come. Knowing that and experiencing it, however, were two entirely different things.

He looked over the mountain of invitations, all the magazines and his teary eyed wife to be. Enough was enough. With a grunt, he finished the invitation he was working on, slapped it in the finished pile and turned to Willow.

“Where’s Oz?”

“Home,” she said, shifting nervously under his unintentional hard glare.

“Right.” Angel nodded. He leaned over and kissed Buffy firmly on the lips. “I’m going out.”

“Where?” Buffy asked quietly.

“Somewhere…” he said, looking around him in near panic, “…that’s not here.”

***

Later that night when Angel came home, it was dark in the house. He made his way up to Buffy’s bedroom and peeked in. He could tell by her breathing she was still awake, so he made his way over to the bed and sat down beside her.

“I don’t mean to be crazy,” she said quietly, looking off at the wall. “I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, kissing her brow. “I just needed a few hours away.”

“Willow said that in an upsetting situation, sometimes a guy just has to bail,” she sniffled. “I’m upsetting, aren’t I?”

“No, Buffy,” he sighed. He bent over to take off his boots and shrugged off his jacket before lying in bed with her and taking her in his arms. “I’m just tired, that’s all,” he said. True to his word, he pulled her close, closed his eyes and despite his intention to stay for just a few minutes, he fell into a deep sleep.

***

Buffy hadn’t slept so well in a long time. The baby was always so active at night that he or she could make getting any rest almost impossible. But for whatever reason, the bump decided to give them a night off and Buffy had slept deeply and soundly, cocooned in Angel’s protective embrace.

She opened her eyes, blinking into the grayish early morning light. It was Saturday morning, but Angel would have to be up soon to be at the shop. Normally Bud wouldn’t want him in until nine, but Oz’s van was having some trouble and since that’s what the Dingoes were planning on using for this upcoming tour, Angel was trying to track down all the problems.

Buffy rolled over and looked at her sleeping soon-to-be husband. There were dark circles under his eyes and she could tell he’d lost some weight. She honestly couldn’t imagine how she had ever thought of him as a loser. He was wearing himself to the bone making sure that everything was taken care of. He was always checking up on her, making sure that she was as happy as she could be with the hormone war her body was waging. When he wasn’t looking after her mental and physical well-being, he was fixing things around the house, working on someone’s car for free, putting in overtime at the shop, or trying to make sure he passed enough classes to graduate.

Angel really needed more credit. And love. He definitely needed more love. Buffy smiled deviously. After all he did for her, he deserved some payback.

Angel came awake with a gasp, his body on fire as he arched into Buffy’s mouth. She squeezed his balls gently, taking him deeper into her throat as she increased the suction. Angel whimpered, his hands wrapping around the slats in her headboard with crushing force. He yelped her name once before his body corded, his eyes rolling back in his head as he climaxed.

When he finally regained his senses some time later, Buffy was sitting up in bed, looking down at him as she licked her lips. He reached out, threading one hand through her hair to pull her close. He kissed her deeply, whispering against her lips with perfect vehemence, “I love you, Buffy.”

***

Snyder scowled at the assembled crowd. “It’s now my duty because it definitely wouldn’t be my pleasure to present you with the graduating class of Sunnydale High. May you leave and never return.”

Graduation was as long and boring as Snyder could possibly make it without putting them all in a coma, but in the end, he had some satisfaction for the torture he put them through. Buffy had been nervous all week, but when the moment came, she walked across the stage, took her diploma and walked off. No one yelled out or sneered. There were no shocked gasps from the audience. And when she looked out in the crowd, she saw her father beaming with untarnished pride, her fiancé smiling just as lovingly and her friends grinning ear to ear.

When Angel finally walked across the stage, he felt the world around him grow brighter. He never thought he would get this far. When the crowd dispersed over the grounds and people were milling toward their family and friends, Angel spotted Buffy and Giles hugging each other. It was interesting to think how losing his mother destroyed his life and his father’s, but the loss of Buffy’s mom just brought them closer together. They were a real family. As Buffy spotted him and held her hand out, he realized, they were his family too. And they were about to make it official.

***

“Damn,” Devon exclaimed, looking at Angel in his tux. Angel frowned, pacing nervously around the basement. The sun was just beginning to set and the entire house had been rearranged in order to host the wedding. It sounded like herds of buffalo were tromping overhead. How could they possibly have this many friends and family? Angel had almost choked when he realized his grandparents were at the graduation. He hadn’t been prepared for the emotions their attendance caused in him. He had been worried they would disapprove, but they both beamed with pride as he showed them his diploma and introduced them to Buffy. His grandmother positively fawned over her.

Angel had been so busy recently that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate just what a big deal this wedding was. Of course, he was prepared to commit himself to Buffy for forever, but the idea of doing it in front of two hundred people was a bit daunting. When Buffy had suggested a ceremony at home, he’d thought small. Leave it to Buffy to add just a little here and there. All the furniture had been moved gods only knew where. The living room and dining room were both filled with folding chairs. The backyard was all set up for the reception and dance where the Dingoes were playing, along with Shy.

The worst part of it was Angel hadn’t even seen Buffy in hours. She shooed him down into the basement as Jenny, Willow and surprisingly, Cordelia, whisked her off upstairs to prepare for her grand entrance. He didn’t know that it would be so difficult to just hang out in another part of the house than Buffy, but apparently, it was next to impossible. He was greatly relieved when Oz finally came downstairs.

“Is it time?” Angel demanded, already brushing past Oz on the stairs. Oz pivoted on the bottom step and headed back up, smiling silently. He had expected Angel to have the normal sort of wedding jitters, but instead he was ready to plunge into the fray. Devon cursed under his breath as he headed up the stairs behind Oz. He thought it was fucking stupid to waste his life in marriage at the very beginning – Cindy Crawford tapes or not.

When Angel got to the top of the stairs he was ushered by Cordelia into what used to be the living room. “Don’t move,” she said, turning his shoulders just so. “Maybe, if you behave you won’t screw this whole thing up.”

“Well, gee Cordy, thanks,” Angel said dryly.

“No problem,” she said, nodding and brushing off his shoulders. “Remember,” she warned.

“I know,” he said, holding up his hands. “I won’t move from this spot.”

Oz was still smiling as he stepped into his spot next to Angel. Angel glanced at his best friend and then expectantly to the back of the living room, searching for Buffy. The house was packed with people, at least half of whom Angel didn’t even know. Some of Buffy’s relatives from England were there and an aunt and uncle from Illinois. It looked like almost the entire school was present, as well as Angel’s maternal grandparents and Doyle. With all these people looking at him expectantly, Angel began to get very nervous. Was this a joke? All these people here just to witness him marry Buffy? The universe must have some sick sense of humor. He felt like the biggest fake to ever walk the planet. There was no way he was good enough for her.

But at that moment, the music queued and Buffy and Willow stepped into view. Every thought flew from Angel’s mind as he looked at his bride.

Everyone stood as Willow, and then Buffy walked down the small isle between the chairs. Willow was wearing a simple sage green slip dress and an upswept hairdo that made her look elegant and sophisticated. But Buffy ...

Angel took a deep breath. She had never looked more radiant. Her skin positively glowed, her eyes twinkled. But one look at her gown and he forgot to breathe. Being in the late stages of her pregnancy, the bump was quite pronounced, but the rest of Buffy was slim and toned as always. Except for her breasts. Oh, Angel loved her breasts, plump and firm from pregnancy. She’d gone up two cup sizes and Angel wanted to drop to his knees and thank god at least twice a week for that little perk. The gown was made of a stretchy, cream lace that clung to her curves. It was strapless, displaying ample amounts of cleavage and leaving her neck and shoulders deliciously bare. It trailed to the floor, but was split up one leg to mid-thigh giving a luscious look at her shapely legs and beautiful ankles. Leave it to Buffy to manage to look graceful and elegant in stiletto heels just weeks before giving birth. Her hair was curled in gentle waves, loosely swept up and laced with fresh flowers. She was without a doubt the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Buffy couldn’t help but smile as she looked at Angel. He was so damned handsome standing there. His hair was still semi-punk in wild black spikes all over his head and his tuxedo fit him perfectly. Buffy thought it was the perfect way to taunt everyone else on how lucky she was. He was undoubtedly the most gorgeous man in the room. Her eyes pricked with tears as she took her father’s arm and walked down the aisle toward Angel.

There may have been moments when she regretted getting pregnant so early or she was worried about raising a child and having a husband, but the one thing she never doubted was Angel. She loved him so much more than he would ever understand. Giles stopped at the end of the aisle and kissed her cheek.

“I’m so proud of you, Buffy,” he said in low voice. The tears that were already filling her eyes were dangerously close to spilling over, so she nodded gratefully. Giles met Angel’s eyes and nodded with approval. “You take care of my little girl,” he said quietly. With a lump in his throat, Giles moved quickly away and sat down.

The ceremony was short and sweet. Buffy and Angel both were jittery and filled with emotion, but neither hesitated with their vows. They kissed lightly when the minister prompted them and stood together as he announced loudly, “May I present for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Angelus Roarke.”

Angel looked down and grinned broadly at his new wife before sweeping her into his arms and kissing her deeply. Their friends and family laughed and clapped as he strode down the aisle and into the back yard with her and the bump firmly in his grip.

***

Hours later, Buffy smiled, reaching across the table to clasp Angel’s grandmother’s hand. She looked down at the little photo album the woman had brought, filled with pictures of Angel growing up. From his first day to teething, him as a toddler and then a young boy with shades of the man he would become. The album stopped abruptly when Angel must have been about five. The last page had a picture of him held firmly in his mother’s arms. They were both beautiful. “Thank you,” Buffy said quietly.

“You deserved to have it,” she replied. “I don’t know if Angel is quite ready for it yet, but I thought especially with your own child on the way that you would appreciate it.”

“I do,” Buffy said.

There was a loud yell and Buffy looked up, smiling wryly. The reception was in full force and she couldn’t help but laugh. The backyard was overrun with people, most of them students from Sunnydale High. There was a small stage and the Dingoes were playing, including Angel who had stripped down to nothing but his tuxedo slacks. As usual, Devon was howling into the mike, jumping around like a monkey on crack. Angel seemed to be having a great time and Buffy was thrilled.

She watched as they called an end to the set and Shy took the stage. Angel searched her out immediately, pulling her against his sweaty chest and kissing her breathless. He threw a heavy arm over her delicate shoulders and headed over to sit down when Giles stopped them.

“I was wondering if I might have a word with the two of you,” he said, speaking just loud enough to stretch over the din.

Buffy and Angel looked at each other curiously but followed him into the house. Angel sat down in a chair and pulled Buffy in his lap. She giggled but Giles gave Angel a stern frown.

“It’s my wedding day, Giles,” Angel laughed. “Unwind a little.”

Chuckling, Giles nodded, “I’ll never get used to you two. I wanted to speak to you about living arrangements.”

“Daddy, if you’re going to kick us out can you please wait until after my honeymoon?” Buffy groaned.

“Actually, I’m kicking myself out,” he explained and grinned when both of their faces were contorted into looks of shock and surprise and confusion.

“Huh?” Angel blurted.

He stood up and paced around the kitchen. “I could barely sleep when you two were separated and Buffy was sneaking to the basement on a weekly basis,” he said. When Buffy gasped, he turned and eyed her severely. “I know what’s going on in my house young lady.”

“But I was so quiet!” Buffy shouted in exasperation.

“You were quiet by yourself,” Giles admitted, “but I assure you, the two of you together were not.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Angel groaned, leaning his head on Buffy’s shoulder.

“Precisely,” Giles agreed. “So in the interest in keeping all of us sane, I have sought out different living arrangements. I have a bachelor’s flat on the other side of town and I will be signing the deed to the house over to the two of you immediately.”

Buffy sniffled, pushing herself out of Angel's lap as she went to hug her father. "Thank you so much, Daddy."

***

The motorcycle was definitely not an option with the bump quickly approaching critical mass, so they needed a car for the evening. Angel managed to guilt Giles into letting them borrow his sporty red mid-life crisis mobile for their trip through town to Sunnydale's only slightly upscale hotel. All their friends threw bird seed and yelled as they drove away.

Buffy giggled happily and Angel told them all to get the fuck out of the way. Very soon, Mr. and Mrs. Roarke were ensconced in the honeymoon suite. Buffy looked at the bottle of Champaign, pouting. Angel laughed, leaning over and pressing his face against the bump. "No booze for you," he said, doing a fairly spot on impression of the soup nazi from Seinfeld.

Buffy rolled her eyes and waddled over to the bed. She leaned back, supporting herself with her arms, making her cleavage that much more visible. "You know," she said, "you shouldn't have put your shirt back on. You're just going to have to take it off again."

"Oh, but see you're wrong there," he told her, stalking over to the bed. "This time, you get to help me take it off. It was all part of the master plan."

She giggled as he reached for her, tumbling her back on the bed. He dove in for the first kiss, capturing her mouth and tangling his tongue with hers. He groaned as her hands roamed underneath his shirt, her nails lightly scratching his back. The kiss deepened and he was dying to be inside her, but first he had other plans.

“Well, Mrs. Roarke,” he said, kissing her again, “are you happy?”

She nodded nervously. “I love you, Angel.” It was strange that she felt apprehensive about tonight, given that they had already made a child together and had sex many times, but this was her wedding night. She wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

She let him pull her to her feet and watched the devotion play across his face as he undressed her. He kissed reverently each patch of skin that was revealed. When the bump was unclothed, she looked around, wishing the light switch was closer. He saw the look, but ignored it. Instead, he pecked little kisses all over her round tummy.

“I love you,” he whispered to her belly and then looked up at her, smiling proudly. He slipped off the rest of her clothes and stood to strip out of his own with a lot of anxious help from his bride. With a sort of finesse others never saw, he led her to the bed and draped her across it. Grinning carnally, he flipped her legs over his shoulders.

“Oh, there they are,” she joked, but her smile faded away into pure ecstasy as he parted her nether lips with his thumbs and leaned in to taste her. He groaned with pleasure as she strained to lift her hips, digging her heels in for leverage. He teased her mercilessly, circling around her swollen nub before abandoning it for her hot sheath. When she was panting and begging for release, he took pity on his new wife and lashed at her pleasure point until she was bucking and screaming.

As she recovered, he pressed hard kisses to her thighs, gentle ones to the bump. He moved up her body, peppering her chest and neck with more kisses before she languidly threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him in for a deep, soul-searing kiss. She moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, pulling on him, wanting the friction of his body against her own. He broke off the kiss, panting and chuckled. “I think the bump might protest if I lay on top of you.”

Buffy pouted, but didn’t fight as he moved off of her, urging her to roll over onto her hands and knees. She did so as gracefully as possible. Angel could have cared less that her actions lacked her natural elegance. She was still the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. He moved behind her, pressing kisses up her spine, against her neck and out to her shoulder before biting playfully. She arched against him restlessly and he obeyed her unspoken command, positioning himself at her entrance.

He pushed inside her slowly, gently and they both moaned at the sensation. Their love was slow and sweet. Angel whispered his devotion against her sweat-slicked skin as they moved together. Buffy shouted her love for him as she came apart in his arms. Angel joined her, burying his face against her back as he climaxed.

They collapsed together onto the bed, limbs intertwined and bonelessly limp. Angel brushed stray tendrils of hair away from Buffy’s face and kissed her tenderly. She laced her fingers through his and their hands rested protectively over the bump. “Forever, Buffy,” he whispered.

***

Buffy and Angel spent two magical days in the hotel suite doing nothing but making love and ordering room service. Clothes were only donned when absolutely necessary – which, of course, meant Angel putting on a robe to answer the door when their latest order of food arrived. They took baths together in the giant Jacuzzi tub, made love in the shower, on the bathroom floor – basically anywhere with a flat service. Despite her advanced pregnancy, Buffy didn’t balk at his choice of adventurous places to make love around the room.

After their blissful days ended, they went back home to find that Giles had moved all of his belongings out already. Buffy wandered into her father’s room, the Master bedroom, to find the furniture had all been replaced. A beautiful four poster king size bed replaced Giles’ queen and two dressers and a vanity table matched it perfectly. They found a lovely note from Giles welcoming them home.

Buffy sniffled after reading the note and went around to admire the new furniture. “He’s the best,” she said, trying to keep the tears at bay. As it was, she couldn’t believe how often she had cried during her pregnancy. It was probably more than she had cried since she was a baby herself.

Angel walked over to where she was looking out the window and circled his arms around her waist, rubbing the bump. “Are you okay, baby?” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered.

He turned her around and framed her face with his hands. His deep brown eyes were unwavering as he looked in her eyes. “I’m not leaving you,” he said. “I’m coming back.”

“I know, Angel,” she said softly.

“Four weeks,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. “Not a day more. Even if the baby is two weeks early, I’ll be home.”

“’Kay,” she muffled against his chest. She held on to him for a long time, her arms surprisingly strong as she clung to him. After a long while he pulled away and slowly undressed them both before leading her to the new bed.

“I’m going to spend my whole life with you,” he whispered, holding her close. “I love you, Buffy.”

***

The band had a couple of days to rehearse before they left for the tour and Angel couldn’t believe that Buffy hadn’t said a word about it since that first day in the bedroom. She never asked him to stay or anything remotely referring to it. In fact, she acted as if he wasn’t leaving at all. She didn’t begrudge him the time he had to practice either. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was in denial about him leaving at all.

However she felt about it, she kept silent, which was odd because she was recklessly emotional about everything else. Her mood swings were becoming more apparent, if that was even possible and he started to worry about how she would do in the house alone while he was gone.

He finally called Willow at the end of the week and asked her about how she would feel moving into Buffy’s old bedroom while they were gone, just to look over his wife. She happily complied, telling him how lonely she would be without Oz around for a whole month. The tone of her voice was like a fist in the gut. Buffy, however, was infuriated that he would go behind her back and move Willow in.

“This isn’t a covert operation, baby,” Angel groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I just thought you might like some company while I’m gone. Even Willow said she was going to be lonely with Oz away.”

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she barked back, “I’m not Willow.” Angel took a step back as she became slightly hysterical. “I’ll be fine without you here. I’m not incapable of taking care of myself. I’ll be fine. I don’t need you. I’ll be fine.”

Gathering his defenses about him, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he crooned as she sobbed in his arms.

“I know,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

***

“Ooooh!” Angel cooed mockingly. “A strip club in Oxnard!”

Muttering a few obscenities, Devon swiped the tour schedule out of Angel’s hand. “Money is money,” he informed Angel tersely.

Angel rolled his eyes, picking up his drum sticks again. “Devon, if my wife finds out we’re playing a strip club, I’m a dead man,” he said seriously. “And when she’s done with me, she’ll kill you.”

“Quit being a pussy, Angel,” Devon groaned. “I know you’re a husband now and all, but fuck man, she’s not going to be on the tour with us. You know, if you want we can blind fold you.”

“My very pregnant, not mention hormonally imbalanced wife, cries when I say hello to her the wrong way. What do you think is going to happen when she finds out I left her right before we’re having a baby to play in fucking strip clubs?” Angel growled.

“Dude, we’re not changing the schedule,” Devon huffed.

“Hey, that’s cool,” Angel said brightening up. “When she rips off my nuts and hands them to me, I’m going to shove them down your throat. No hard feelings or anything.”

Devon stalked off stage and Oz wandered over to the drum kit. “Guess it’s a little tense at your place?”

Angel grunted. “With Giles moving out and the baby coming in four weeks, it’s pretty crazy. I wore a black t-shirt yesterday. Somehow Buffy interpreted that to mean I didn’t love her anymore.”

“Wow,” Oz said.

“Yeah,” Angel replied tightly.

***

Angel watched the young, naked woman gyrate against the pole and truth be told, he couldn’t possibly have been more bored. He was keeping time, glaring at the back of Devon’s big, fat head, telling himself only five more days and they’d be finished. Then he could get home to Buffy and he could get that front all smoothed out before the baby arrived. He and Buffy really needed some quality alone time. His cell phone was acting up and he hadn’t had a chance to have it replaced. That meant that his phone calls were quickie affairs on payphones in motel parking lots. Not exactly conducive to bonding. Plus, it seemed like every moment he wasn’t on stage was spent trying to resurrect Oz’s behemoth van from the dead. Every time he fixed one thing, another fell apart.

He knew Buffy was going to flip when she found out the Dingoes West Coast tour was actually a tour of every sleazy strip joint between Sunnydale and San Diego. Angel had never imagined that breasts could get so boring after a while. Sure he would still get hard just thinking about Buffy’s, but the ones being waved in his face nightly weren’t doing anything for him.

It was with much relief that Angel realized by Devon’s convulsive movements that he was winding down the set. Oz wasn’t even finished playing the last note before Angel had tossed down his drumsticks and started disassembling the kit. Devon glared at him, but Angel just flipped him off and continued with his work.

However, being loaded in record time wasn’t destined to help the Dingoes this night. The van coughed and sputtered as Oz tried to start it, but refused to roar to life. Cursing, Angel hopped out and lifted the hood. Twenty minutes later, he leaned in the driver’s side window with bad news. “You need a new alternator,” he said.

“So, what’s the problem? You know what’s wrong. Fix it,” Devon groused from the back. Tempers were running high after a week and a half stuck in the van with not only them, but Shy as well.

Angel grabbed an empty soda can off the dashboard and threw it at Devon’s head, narrowly missing Veruca in the process. “It’s two o’clock in the morning, shithead. There aren’t any parts stores open.”

“So, what? We’re stuck here another day?” Devon bellowed. “We have to be in Santa Monica tomorrow!”

Angel was about half a second from crawling through the window, over Oz and beating the shit out of Devon when Spike’s bellow pierced the air. “Hey!”

All the van’s occupants turned to look at him. He held his cell phone out to Angel. “I don’t know how they tracked you down through me,” he said, “but it’s your father-in-law. I think it’s important.”

Angel’s heart was in his throat as he took the phone. “Giles? What’s wrong? Is it Buffy?” He listened, his rigid form taken over by a fine trembling as Giles’ words rushed over him. “Okay,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll be there.”

He clicked off the phone and looked blindly at the van. “I have to get back to Sunnydale,” he said. “Now!”

“What’s wrong?” Oz asked.

Angel looked at him, blinking, like he didn’t understand why there were other people still there. He walked around to the front of the van, staring inside the hood. “I have to get home,” he repeated.

“Angel!” Oz said sharply. “What the hell is going on?”

He looked at Oz again, terror etched on his features. “There was a car wreck,” he said. “Buffy’s ... Buffy’s ... I have to get home now.”

“Don’t worry, man, we’ll get you there,” Oz assured him. He slipped the phone out of Angel’s boneless fingers and began dialing.

Twenty minutes later, they were still no closer to a solution. Angel was pacing around the strip club’s parking lot like a caged tiger. Oz shook his head, looking at the van. They were five hours from Sunnydale. There was no way that Giles would leave Buffy to pick up Angel. Jenny and Willow offered, but it would double the time if they had to drive all the way to where they were to pick him up.

Oz addressed the assembled bands. “Does anyone know anybody near here? Friends, family?”

Angel’s head snapped up. “Oh hell!” he cursed. “My cousin, Doyle.”

He grabbed Spike’s cell, trying five times before he finally dialed the right number. “Doyle? Yeah, sorry, it’s Angel. I’m sorry to wake you up, but I need a huge favor.” He gave a very terse description of the situation and then went very quiet. “My dad? What?” Angel paced around in little circles. “Dad? Why are you in L.A.?” Angel explained the situation again and then said, “Okay,” and clicked off the phone.

He handed the phone back to Oz. “My dad’s in town taking care of some business. He’s going to pick me up and take me back to Sunnydale. He should be here in about forty-five minutes.”

Oz looked at Angel quizzically but held his tongue. He wasn’t going to mention that the last time Angel had seen his father the man nearly beat him unconscious. Their relationship was strange, but if it meant that Angel could get back to Sunnydale quicker, he doubted it mattered.

***

Angel hopped in the truck before it even finished moving. His father didn’t say a word as he pulled back onto the highway and headed for Sunnydale. The sun was coming up before either of them spoke.

“I’m not real clear on the details,” his father said, “but your ... wife was in an accident.”

Angel nodded. None of this felt real. Everything, sights, sounds, all of it felt hollow and fake. He needed to be with Buffy. Every second away from her was killing him. Icy terror flowed through his veins. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. His entire life was in Sunnydale, his wife, his baby. How could he have left them alone? He cleared his throat roughly. “Her dad called me. He said she was in a wreck, that it was serious and I needed to come home.”

Angel’s dad lit a cigarette, cracking his window. “She’s pregnant right?” he asked. “She has to be close.”

“Three weeks,” Angel said tautly. “She’s due in three weeks.”

“I saw her at your graduation,” he said. “She seemed like a real nice girl.”

“You were at graduation?” Angel asked, snapping his head toward his father.

“I was there,” he said, nodding and flicking his ashes out of the window. He kept his eyes on the road, not even glancing at his son. “Saw the end of your wedding too. Stood at the back. You didn’t even see me when you walked right past me with her in your arms.”

“Why?” Angel demanded. All his emotions were already at the forefront. He should have just stared out the window and kept his mouth shut but he didn’t.

“I know how you feel,” his father said quietly. “I loved….” He scowled and tossed his cigarette out of the window. He drove in silence for a few minutes before speaking again. “I fucked up your life son,” he said. “I know that. I didn’t have a thing left after Samantha-“ his voice broke and he cleared his throat irritably. “After your mother died, I just stopped living too. Didn’t even think about what you were going through. I didn’t understand you growing up, son, but I understand this. If you feel anything for that little girl like what I felt for your mother… I just hope she’s alright.”

“She’s everything to me,” Angel said, his voice choked as he stared out the window. “Everything.”


	10. Chapter 10

Angel jumped out of the truck as soon as his father pulled into the hospital parking lot. He was at a dead run by the time he hit the emergency room doors. He skittered around the corner, nearly running into Giles. “Where is she?” he demanded, frantic.

Giles grabbed Angel’s upper arms. “Calm down,” he said wearily. “She’s still in surgery, there’s nothing you can do right now.”

“Still?” Angel asked, his soul shredding. “Giles, it’s been ... “

“Nine hours,” Giles replied in a quiet, defeated voice. He sighed, releasing Angel and rubbing his hand over his stubble roughened face. “She was on her way home from the video store. Some stupid kid blew through a red light, ran into her. She had ... *extensive* internal injuries. There were lacerations on her liver and spleen. They had to deliver the baby via caesarian before they could start working on Buffy.”

Angel’s lips wouldn’t work right. “The baby?” he managed to whisper.

Giles smiled, tears glittering in his eyes. “A little girl,” he said, pride warring with pain. “She’s only a few weeks early, but both she and Buffy were in distress for quite a while. And she’s tiny, Angel. So tiny.”

Angel was shaking uncontrollably. “She’s going to be ... “

Giles nodded frantically. “The doctors think she’ll be fine, but they’re monitoring her very closely for a while. She barely weighed five pounds.”

“Can I see her?”

Angel followed Giles down the hall, his mind overflowing with the information he just gotten. His legs were stiff from his five hour car ride and the tension that flowed through him. He couldn’t seem to get his brain to wrap around the idea that Buffy had been in surgery for nine hours. Nine.

Giles led him to the elevators and they had to go to the fifth floor which was reserved for the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. There was a security station. Angel looked down at the paperwork, unable to comprehend a single line of the information they wanted from him. Taking pity on him, Giles took the clipboard from his grasp and filled out the information verifying that yes, Angel Roarke was the father of baby Roarke. The nurse took the paperwork and waved them to a side door that buzzed loudly before clicking open.

The room was large and had an otherworldly feel. There were no windows, fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The air smelled strange and antiseptic. Angel followed Giles like a sleepwalker. He stood in front of an industrial sized steel sink and used the special anti-bacterial soap to scrub his hands. Once that was finished, the nurse handed them paper gowns to cover their clothes and then led them down a corridor. Every couple of meters, there was a sort of station with a tiny little bed and a rocking chair or two. Angel absently noticed several other sets of parents holding their tiny babies wrapped in blue and pink blankets.

Giles tapped him on the shoulder to break his reverie and he looked down into a tiny special bed. His child was trapped in plastic and he choked out a sob. She was so pink and tiny and covered with tubes. Giles’ voice rumbled in his ear.

“She is being fed intravenous fluids temporarily through her umbilical central line,” Giles mumbled. “Her bed has a warmer. Radiant, I believe they said to help her maintain body temperature and the cellophane wrapping is an additional device. They’re, er, monitoring her heart and pulse.”

Angel crouched down in front of the incubator, staring through the clear plastic at his tiny baby girl. There were holes on the side of the incubator and he reached through, running his finger over the back of her little hand. She reacted immediately, flexing her tiny little bird-like fingers and grabbing onto his finger with startling force. A tear streaked down Angel's face as he held his daughter's hand. Her entire palm was almost the same size as the last knuckle on his finger.

“She’s so little. They’re sure she’ll be okay?” he asked, his voice practically begging although he didn’t turn away from his too small child.

“Yes, they believe she will be fine,” Giles said, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ve a sturdy little girl there.”

“Giles, did they say anything about Buffy?” Angel said, after long minutes staring at his daughter. “Did they give you any…expectations?”

“They aren’t sure,” Giles said honestly. He swiped off his glasses to polish them and tears welled in his eyes. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Apparently Buffy turned her body in attempt to protect the child and the slight movement was enough to save the baby’s life. From how they found her…contorted in the wreckage, they believe….” Giles took a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t know Angel. Good Lord, I don’t know if my daughter’s going to make it through.”

“I should have been here,” Angel choked out. “I should have never left her alone and pregnant like that.”

“There’s nothing you could have done, Angel,” Giles answered. “You would have just been waiting in the hospital rather than traveling here in a car.”

“I would have been driving,” he answered, shaking his head and allowing tears to steak down his face. “I would have gotten the movies and my wife wouldn’t be in there right now.”

***

Angel and Giles had been taking turns running from the NICU to check on Buffy and back. They were both beside themselves with worry and grief, each being characteristically silent as they kept a silent vigil for Buffy’s life. When she finally came out of surgery, the doctor appeared before them in scrubs.

“Is she going to be okay?” Angel blurted, before the doctor had even spoken.

“Mr. Roarke?” the doctor asked patiently.

“Yes,” Angel nodded hysterically. “Is Buffy okay?”

“Mrs. Roarke is a very lucky woman. She had severe lacerations in her liver and spleen, which generally cause death within the hour. The pressure of your child against her body most likely saved her life. We birthed your child by cesarean, removed your wife’s spleen and did the best we could to repair the damage to her liver. The next few days will tell us much about the extent of her bodily damage.”

“You’re not sure about the rest of her injuries?” Angel mumbled in shock. “What do you mean? How could you  _not_  know?”

“Your wife’s abdomen is currently held together by a sheet of plastic, Mr. Roarke. She has packs around her liver. I cannot put her through additional tests until she’s stable,” the doctor announced firmly. “We are hoping there isn’t additional internal bleeding and that there’s no brain damage. Tomorrow, barring further complications, we’ll perform x-rays and CT scans to see the extent of her injuries. If she’s taken the treatment well, I hope to close her abdomen with a few days.”

“Can I see her?” Angel asked quietly.

***

The atmosphere in the adult intensive care unit was even more alien and disconcerting than in the NICU. At least in the NICU, there had been pictures of happy babies, bright, cheerful colors. Here everything was cold and sterile.

The nurse led Angel to the bed at the very end of the room. It was shielded by a cotton curtain that she pulled back for him. Angel felt like he'd just been punched in the face. He stared at Buffy, unable to move.

He wasn't aware of the nurse's departure, he wasn't aware of anything. Buffy looked so small and helpless, wrapped up with gauze. Tubes and wires went everywhere. She was connected to a battery of machines. Every inch of flesh he could see was scratched or discolored in some way.

He fell into the chair at the side of her bed, staring at her helplessly. He reached out, wanting to hold her hand, but didn't know how to touch her without hurting her more. Burying his head in his hands, he sobbed so violently his entire body shuddered with the force.

It was a long time before he could pull himself together. His cheeks were still wet with his tears as he settled for gently running his fingertips over the back of her hand. "Don't leave me, Buffy," he whispered hoarsely.

Angel sat by her side, only moving to check on his little girl and come back. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat and he didn’t leave when they told him he should go home. The nurses, the doctors, even Giles tried to pry him from her side with no avail. He wasn’t leaving Buffy. Never again.

What he did do was talk to her. He had Giles bring the newest magazines and he read her articles. He told her every single thing that popped in his head. He told her about their daughter, how tiny and beautiful she was, how fragile. He told her how much he loved her and how he regretted leaving. He talked and talked until his throat was raw and then he talked some more.

Whenever someone came in to check on her or touch her in any way, he eyed them severely, watching every move they made. It got to the point that all the nurses on the staff knew who he was and avoided him whenever possible. They had seen it before, but he was relentless. He didn’t tire out and fall asleep in his chair. His eyes were propped open by will alone and he wasn’t going to be bullied from his wife’s side by anyone.

In the late morning, he got on his knees next to the bed and kissed her cheek before he went to check on their daughter. When he caressed the back of her hand, it twitched and he almost had a heart attack. He pressed the nurse’s button so many times, she scolded him on the proper use of hospital resources.

They decided to wait one more day to take CT scans but they did the x-rays in the afternoon. When Dr. Morrison informed him that she had no broken bones as they suspected, Angel thanked the man so rigorously, the doctor cut his visit short to get away. When the doctor left, Angel knelt by her bedside again and told her what had happened.

“See baby?” he whispered. “You’re going to come back to me. You’re going to be okay.”

“Angel.” Giles stood in the doorway with a sack of fast food and a soda. Briskly, he walked across the room and handed them to his son-in-law. “You will eat this food,” Giles commanded.

“I don’t want to eat,” Angel said, setting it aside on Buffy’s bedside table. “She can’t eat. I’m not eating.”

“She’s being fed intravenously,” Giles argued. “And she will never forgive me if you die because you weren’t taking care of yourself. Now eat or I will have you forcibly removed from this room and locked in the basement like an animal.”

“Giles,” Angel balked. He was taken aback at the threat in Giles’ voice and knew without a doubt that he was not kidding. “I don’t think I can eat. I just want to sit here with Buffy.”

“Very well,” Giles clipped. “I’ll gather the orderlies now.” Turning, he eyed Angel up and down, “I’m sure four will be able to drag you away.”

“Fine!” Angel growled, snatching the sack and stuffing a fry into his mouth. “Buffy, your dad is a bullheaded asshole.”

“She’s aware,” Giles answered. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. “I’ll just go check on my granddaughter.”

***

"Ah, here you are Mr. Roarke," the doctor said, smiling at Angel.

Angel nodded curtly to the doctor and then smiled at Willow who had been with the baby while he was with Buffy. Between Giles, Jenny, Willow and Angel, both Buffy and the baby had constant companions. At the moment, Giles was sitting at Buffy's bedside reading the newest issue of "Glamour" even though he argued it was sheer absurdity. Angel was fairly certain he had been referring to the content of the magazine, not the merits of reading to unconscious people.

"Your daughter is doing wonderfully," the doctor informed him, "and we were about to remove her from the incubator. We'll keep her for observation tonight but barring some unforeseen complication, she should be released tomorrow."

Angel watched, spellbound as they removed the baby from the incubator and swaddled her in a soft pink blanket. She was still so skinny, her limbs long and thin. There was a peach fuzz of blonde hair covering her little head and she blinked grouchily up at the cruel adults as they took her out of her warm cocoon.

Angel's hands shook as he took her, cradling her carefully against his chest. He waited for her to start screaming bloody murder, but she just blinked up at him with luminous blue eyes. Her little hand clasped around his finger and she brought it to her mouth, suckling on it hungrily.

"We removed her feeding tube," the doctor said. "If you would like, you can give her a bottle."

Unable to speak, Angel nodded, carefully taking a seat in the waiting rocking chair. With a little guidance from the nurse, he was soon giving his daughter a bottle. He couldn't help but smile with pride at her lusty little grunts as her fingers tightened and released reflexively on his captive pinkie.

Twenty minutes later, Giles came to spell Willow, leaving Jenny to finish reading Buffy the article on electrolysis vs. laser removal of unwanted hair in the pubic region. He did have his limits. He saw the nurse standing in the middle of the corridor looking into his granddaughter's little alcove. As he approached, he realized she was looking at Angel.

"He is human," Giles whispered wryly, looking at his son-in-law, passed out in the rocking chair, his sleeping daughter tucked protectively in the crook of his arm.

The nurse looked at him, her brow furrowed. "I was just going to wake him," she said.

"Please don't," Giles pled, "he needs the sleep. They both do. I promise I'll watch them and make sure he doesn't drop her."

The nurse smiled kindly and left.

***

Angel woke up groggily and looked immediately to his arms to find that his daughter was still cradled protectively there. He stared down at her in awe, taking in the little details of her. She looked just like Buffy, destined to be another little princess. He smiled and cooed at her, kissing her plump little cheek.

Finally, he pried his eyes away from his child to see that Giles was sitting in a chair a few meters away, casually flipping through one of Buffy’s magazines. “She’s beautiful,” Angel said to Giles, looking from his father-in-law to the baby and back again. Giles nodded with grandfatherly pride and strode over to look down on her.

“Do you want to hold her, Grandpa?” Angel asked quietly with a bit of a smile.

“Grandpa,” Giles repeated in surprise. “I’d…I’d be honored, yes.”

Angel stood and let Giles sit in his chair before tucking his little miracle into her grandfather’s arms. “How extraordinary,” Giles murmured. “Did you and Buffy talk about names?”

Angel nodded. “Samantha Joyce Roarke. After our mothers.”

“Well, hello little Samantha,” Giles crooned, rocking slowly in the chair. “Welcome to our family.”

***

Angel left his daughter with Giles and wandered back to Buffy’s room to find that Jenny was reading to her from a different magazine. She looked up when Angel walked in and blushed. Immediately, she flipped the magazine closed so he wouldn’t see she was reading 101 new sexual positions.

Angel struggled with a smile when he picked up the magazine. “Did you get to a 101?”

“57,” Jenny said, laughing. “We were just getting to the good stuff.”

“Anything new?” Angel asked. He stood by Buffy’s bed and absently trailed his fingers along her arm as he waited for news.

“They’re going to go ahead with the CT scans tomorrow,” Jenny answered. “And they’re hoping to close her abdomen. After that, they should be able to lessen the drugs and she’ll be more aware.”

Jenny stood up, gently squeezing Angel's arm as she walked past him. "She's going to make it, Angel," she said seriously. "She has a strong heart."

Angel blinked back tears. "I know."

Taking his seat at her side, Angel gently threaded his fingers through Buffy's and spent the next hour waxing ecstatic about their beautiful little girl. He kept speaking, pride and pain warring in his voice. He couldn't help but fear that Buffy would never know first hand what a miracle their perfect little girl was. But he knew he had to stay positive, if only for Samantha.

***

Angel came awake with a start, blinking up at his father. He frowned, looking around.

He watched his father glance at Buffy, his gaze quickly flitting away from her. He was slightly ashen as he looked at his son. "You need to go home, Angel," he said. "Get a shower, some food and a few hours of sleep. She's stable. Nothing's going to happen and you're not going to be any good to that little girl if you don't take care of yourself."

Despite the fogginess clouding his brain, Angel had no trouble reading the guilt and regret in his father's voice. He'd gone through all of this before and he didn't want Angel to make the same mistakes.

No doubt Giles had put his father up to this, hoping that Angel would instinctually listen to his parent where he ignored everyone else. The worst part of it was that he was right. After day upon day of constant stress and wakefulness, he was the walking dead.

In the hallway, he nodded to Giles, knowing Buffy's father would stay with her while he was gone. His dad drove him back to the house in silence. Angel showered and shaved mechanically. He forced himself to eat one of the sandwiches Willow had left before collapsing into the bed he shared with Buffy, hugging her pillow close to his face as tears wet his cheeks. "I'm going to bring you home, baby," he vowed. "I promise."

***

Angel slept on and off for five hours before he finally got up, showered and dressed. He took as little time as possible looking in the mirror while he got ready because his reflection was pretty rough. He didn’t like the idea of looking that horrible when Buffy opened her eyes but there was nothing he could do about it now.

He headed downstairs and found his father in the living room flipping through the channels. He looked up when Angel came in the room and jerked his head toward the kitchen. “The little redhead made some food for you. It’s in the ice box.”

“Thanks,” Angel mumbled. The whole thing was just strange. His father looked like he had been up all night in that chair waiting and he had no doubt that he did. Despite the mess in his head, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would be able to understand his father more now and where their relationship would go.

He ate quickly, only because he knew he wouldn’t get a ride back to the hospital if he didn’t. His father stood up when he entered the room again. He looked over him gruffly. “You eat?”

Angel nodded. His father grunted in approval and headed toward the door without another word. The ride to the hospital was short and silent. Angel wasn’t surprised when his father walked up to the room with him. Outside of her door, Giles was having a conversation with the doctor.

“Mr. Roarke,” Dr. Morrison said, greeting him. “We removed the packs around her liver and closed Mrs. Roarke’s abdomen this morning. Her liver lacerations clotted nicely. She’s going to have a nasty scar, but it looked like it will heal well. I’m waiting for the results from the CT scans, but at this juncture, I think it’s looking like a positive outcome.”

“Thank you,” Angel said, shaking the doctor’s hand firmly.

***

Angel paced around the waiting room clutching Samantha to his chest. The baby slept, blissfully unaware of her father’s agitation.

“Angel, please sit down,” Giles said, looking at the other families scattered throughout the room who were obviously unnerved by his actions.

Ignoring them, Angel continued to pace. They were transferring Buffy out of the ICU and into a private room. There was no way he was relaxing until he got to see her again. The doctors still felt her progress was excellent and they expected her to regain lucidity soon now that they were decreasing her medication.

“Mr. Roarke?”

Angel turned and immediately walked over to the nurse. “You can see your wife now,” she said.

Angel wanted to weep when he saw Buffy. The private room had a large window and someone had opened the blinds. If Buffy had looked less than healthy under the ICU’s buzzing fluorescent lights, she looked positively wretched under natural light. The bruises on her body were a vibrant array of sickly colors and she was pale, so pale.

Careful not to wake Samantha, Angel slid into the chair next to Buffy’s bed. Restless, he was glad when he needed to change Samantha’s diaper and feed her. He talked Buffy through each step as he went, making sure she knew that he was taking care of everything, that he wouldn’t let her down. He bundled his daughter up again and as usual, he stalked around with her in his arms. It never occurred to him even once to put her down and let her sleep in peace. Thankfully, Samantha had no qualms with being handled and carried around. She slept peacefully in her Daddy’s arms and was lulled by the deep rumbling of his voice.

“Buffy, I can’t wait for you to see all this,” he said, strolling around the room nervously. “She opens her little eyes and moves around and I know she sees me. She does. She knows the difference between me or Giles or Willow. She’s brilliant.”

“You’ll see, baby,” Angel said, lowering himself into his chair again, “Our daughter is so smart, so beautiful.” It never occurred to Angel that he couldn’t possibly gauge his daughter’s intelligence given the fact that she had only slept and eaten in the last few days.

Angel was positive that when Buffy was taken to her room, she would wake up immediately, but he had hours to wait. He read to her from the magazines, talked to her about school in the Fall and finally when he was about to get up and pace around the room again, she blinked open her eyes.

“Angel?” Buffy groaned, trying to focus on his face.

“I’m here, baby,” he said, dropping to one knee by her bed. “Don’t try to move. Stay still.”

It took long moments, but she looked around and realized she was in the hospital. Memories of the crash sprang back, crushing into her mind so hard she winced. Panicked, her hands slid to her belly and she choked back a sob.

“I’m so sorry, Angel,” she said in a choked voice. She couldn’t see the infant clutched in his arms from where he knelt. “I lost the baby. Oh my god. Oh my god, Angel.”

“Shhh,” Angel whispered, caressing her face gently. “You didn’t lose her, my love. She’s right here.”

“She?” Buffy repeated. She turned her head straining to see her child. He held Samantha close to Buffy and let her look at her sleeping daughter. Buffy’s tears started again as she looked over her. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Just like her mother,” Angel whispered. He kissed her forehead and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Samantha and I have just been hanging out and getting to know each other while we waited for you to wake up.”

Buffy looked at her daughter, trying to maneuver her hand so she could touch the baby. Angel helped her, making sure she didn’t disturb the I.V. Carefully, Buffy ran her finger over the baby’s cheek. Samantha gurgled in her sleep.

***

The doctor glared at Angel. “Honestly, Mr. Roarke, I thought you were the most stubborn human being ever created. Obviously I hadn’t been properly introduced to your wife.”

Angel smiled unrepentantly. In the last week and a half since Buffy had regained consciousness, she had been strictly disregarding the doctor’s orders. She cut her pain medication back so she could have longer periods of lucidity. She complained about her I.V. and twice they caught her out of bed, rocking Samantha. “You sending her home?” he asked.

The doctor sighed, rubbing his jaw wearily. “I don’t see that I have any other choice,” he said. “Despite her blatant disregard for my instructions, she seems to be healing with remarkable speed. Her energy is outstanding and she clearly does not wish to stay here. So yes, I am sending her home. She will need to come back every day for a check-in, but if you can keep her more sedate at home, that would be an improvement.”

Angel was still smiling as he strode back into Buffy’s room where she was cooing at the baby tucked against her side. “Warden’s letting you go,” he informed her with a grin. “They have to process some paperwork, but I should be wheeling you out of here before sundown.”

In perfect Buffy fashion, she merely scowled. “It’s about time!”

Angel’s grin went ear to ear. That was his princess.

***

“Sweetheart,” Buffy said, meeting Angel’s eyes in the rear-view mirror from her position in the backseat, “you’re driving like old people fuck.”

Angel frowned at his wife, but kept the speed steady at five miles an hour below the speed limit. Buffy’s eyes had gone wide as he wheeled her out to their new car. Okay, it wasn’t a car, it was an SUV and a really big one at that. In theory, he hated SUVs, but he wasn’t taking any chances with his wife and daughter strapped in the backseat.

Another driver honked irritably and sped around them. Angel cursed under this breath. “Lunatics,” he mumbled, making sure to keep his slow, steady pace.

“Honey, at this rate, Samantha will have her driver’s license by the time we get home,” Buffy said, hiding her smile by cooing down at her daughter.

“Well, she’ll be safe when she gets it,” Angel mumbled.

“That’s my bad boy,” Buffy chuckled as he turned into the driveway so slowly they didn’t even feel the movement of the turn. “Your Daddy’s such a hellion, Samantha. Wild and crazy.”

Buffy beamed a smile at Angel. He snarled back.

***

In the weeks that followed, Angel watched Buffy like a hawk. He took her back to the hospital for her appointments every day and didn’t go back to work for several weeks until her follow up appointments slowed down. They were halfway through August before Angel returned to work for half days.

In the meantime, Buffy was trying to settle into some sort of a routine. Their lives had been in so much upheaval with graduation, the wedding, Giles moving out; and that was all before the wreck. Buffy was still trying to acclimate to being a wife and homeowner as well as mother and dealing with all her health issues. It was enough to drive anyone insane.

Angel had taken over almost everything in their home life, serving as cook, chauffer, dealing with the bills, doctor’s appointments and taking care of both Buffy and Samantha all hours of the day. Buffy wouldn’t admit it, but she was actually quite jealous of all the time he spent with their daughter. She did everything she could to encourage him to go to work.

She was sitting at the kitchen table one afternoon, holding her sleeping daughter as she flipped through bills. She frowned, pulling out their bank account statement for closer inspection. Angel knew he was in trouble the second he stepped through the door.

He looked from his wife and lover, who was holding their daughter protectively, to the open bank statement on the counter. “Buffy – “ he started, cringing.

“Are you selling drugs?” she demanded.

He stopped short. “Am I?” he repeated, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Did I miss a memo or something?” she asked. “Because last time I checked I didn’t have a job, you hadn’t been to yours in months and we have a new baby. Unless the government has started some new supplementation program, we should be worse than flat broke.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Yeah.”

“You want to explain why there are so many zeros on the bank statement?” she demanded.

“Well, I was going to tell you,” Angel said, lowering himself into a chair, “but things have been so crazy, I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Now would be a great time, Angel,” she snapped. “I’ve been seriously concerned about the medical bills and the new SUV and the things I need for Sammy and you’re hoarding a fortune here. What’s the deal?”

“After the wedding, my grandparents told me that they had a trust fund for me since I was a baby. They never told me about it because they were afraid my dad would try to get his hands on it and piss it away. They planned to keep it until I was twenty-five until they came to the wedding.” Angel gestured toward the bankbook. “I thought they were going to give me a couple of hundred dollars and I didn’t think much about it.”

“This isn’t a couple of hundred dollars,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You’re…you’re rich, Angel.”

“No, we are rich, baby. They said and I quote, ‘We weren’t expecting those new fangled computers to be such a big deal when we invested in them.’ Then my grandmother mumbled something about how she thought Macintoshes were apples.” Angel grinned. “I’ve been talking to Bud about buying the shop. He wants to retire. How does  _Roarke Autobody_  sound?”

“Angel, I can’t believe this!” Buffy shouted. Samantha opened her eyes and closed them again, unconcerned with her parent’s racket. Buffy laid Samantha in the Pumpkin seat on the table before sitting down in Angel’s lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.

He kissed her gently, unable to wipe the smile from his face. He was so worried about everything else that he had forgotten about the money entirely. He knew somehow he would have made sure his wife and daughter had the best of everything. Now he didn’t have to worry. It was a huge load off of his mind. If he knew it was going to make her so happy, he would have mentioned it before.

“And here I was thinking about not going to school in fall,” she said quietly.

“You go to school in the fall,” Angel said kissing her neck and shoulder. Now that he had a taste of her again, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to taste all of her. “Buy a whole new wardrobe for college Buffy. I want you to be spoiled, baby. Spoiled and happy just like our little girl.”

“I love you, Angel,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair and bringing his mouth back to hers again.

He moaned as their lips met, his hand cupping her face. He nipped at her lips, soft, gentle kisses, savoring her taste like a fine wine. Gods how he had missed her. He licked at the seam of her lips, urging her to part them. She did so immediately, deepening the kiss, searching out his tongue with her own.

His fingers tightened against her flesh. He wanted her. He needed her. He broke off the kiss with a growl, burying his face against her shoulder, panting harshly.

She raked her fingernails through his hair. Her breath was hot and moist against his ear when she spoke, “Make love to me, Angel.”

His body ached to do just that. But he couldn’t. With more strength than he believed he possessed he pulled back. “We should uh ... we should ... check on Sammy.”

Buffy looked over her shoulder and then back at her husband. “She’s asleep, Angel,” she said pointedly. “I want you. Now.”

He ground his teeth together. “Buffy, you’re still – “

“Perfectly fine,” she finished, glaring at him. “The doctor said it’s all right for us to ... “ she looked away, blushing as she remembered the awkward conversation with her doctor, “you know.”

He looked at her helplessly, torn. “I just don’t want to ... “

“What?” she whispered against his lips.

He swallowed thickly. “Hurt you,” he admitted.

“Angel, you could never hurt me,” she told him honestly.

He shook his head, looking at her. “You don’t know, Buffy,” he said. “You didn’t have to watch you lay in that hospital bed all full of tubes and wires. I thought I was going to lose you.”

She placed her hands on his cheeks, holding his face. “I’m right here, Angel,” she told him.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered desolately.

She kissed him, gently at first, but the ever present passion quickly flared between them. She raked her nails across his wifebeater, smiling wickedly at him. “I’ve missed these,” she said deviously.

He couldn’t help it. As much as he wanted to protect her from everything, including himself, he was too weak. He grinned back. “Oh really?”

Buffy yelped and then giggled as he stood up, holding her in his arms. He carried her into the living room, carefully depositing her on the couch. He kissed her deeply and then pulled away. “Just a sec,” he said, and then took off running.

Seconds later, he was back holding the still sleeping Samantha in her seat. Frantically he searched for a safe place to put her. He finally settled for putting the seat on the floor, turned conspicuously away from the couch. Buffy bit down on her lip trying to keep from laughing out loud at his actions. “Angel, at this age, their eyes can’t focus that far,” Buffy told him. “She couldn’t see us anyway.”

Angel merely frowned at her, giving her an ‘as if’ look. Satisfied that Samantha was sleeping comfortably and that if she woke she wouldn’t get a look at her parents doing something unspeakable, he returned to the couch with Buffy.

All of his earlier hesitance was gone and he stripped both her and himself in record time. Buffy hissed, arching against him as their nude bodies finally twined together. She forgot how much she loved the sensation of his bare skin against her own.

He settled himself against her, careful to keep most of his weight off of her body and kissed her for a long time. He groaned against her lips when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him down, arching for more. His breath went from ragged to nonexistent when her hand wrapped around his cock. She stroked him gently, her thumb playing over the head, before guiding him into her hot, wet entrance. He shuddered as he buried himself to the root inside her, pressing his face into her neck, panting for control.

“I love you, Angel,” she whispered. He kissed her deeply as he began to move inside her, carefully, slowly with mind dazzling tenderness. His whole body trembled as he made love to her and it took several moments before she realized there were tears coursing down his cheeks. “Angel?” she questioned, cupping his face with both hands.

“I wouldn’t have made it without you,” he said honestly, his voice thick with emotion. “I would have broken like my father. I would have been worthless to Sammy.”

“You’re stronger than that, Angel,” she said, kissing his tears from his cheeks even though her own welled in her eyes.

“No,” he said, shaking his head bitterly. “I’m weak. That’s all I’ve ever been. I’m nothing without you.”

“You’re everything,” she whispered, pulling him more tightly in her arms. “You’re everything, Angel.”

She groaned, arching against him, her legs tightening around his waist. Angel wanted to prolong it, to make their reunion last forever but between the fact that they hadn’t made love in months and the fact that their infant daughter was sleeping only feet away, it wasn’t in the cards. He stroked into her more firmly and her fingernails bit into his back. Her lips claimed his in a sensual assault and her sheath began to flutter around him.

“Buffy,” he hissed, his hips meeting hers more frantically.

She cried out, biting down on his shoulder as she climaxed, losing herself in bliss. It was more than Angel could take and he let himself go, spilling inside her.

Angel couldn’t feel his hands or his feet or his arms or his legs or his head for that matter. All he could feel was a foggy, blissful haze enveloping him. He was boneless and limp, lost in the scent and taste of Buffy. He nuzzled against her and she nearly purred, snuggling closer.

They had approximately ninety-seven seconds of bliss before a high pitched wail split the air. Angel stood, slipped on his boxers and scooped her up. Buffy pulled on her clothes and watched Angel with Samantha. He kissed his daughter’s forehead, before plopping down on the couch and handing her off to her mother. Surprised, she looked over at him questioningly.

“You were all jealous when I was playing mom,” Angel said, grinning knowingly, “So I’ll be playing the deadbeat father and pass her off for today.”

“I was not jealous,” she huffed, carrying her daughter to the kitchen to make a bottle. Angel followed and caught her around the waist, kissing her neck. “You were jealous,” he growled.

“Well, you were monopolizing,” she said petulantly, gathering the bottle and heading upstairs to the bedroom. She propped up on the bed and fed her daughter, looking down at her anxious suckling.

Angel followed her upstairs and laid on the bed, propping himself on his elbow next to his wife and daughter. He caressed Samantha’s cheek with the back of his finger and grinned at both of them. Buffy snuggled up against his chest and practically glowed with happiness.

“You know, you’re awfully attentive for a dead beat father,” she said with a big smile. He kissed her shoulder and wrapped his arms around them.

“Well, I’m new at it,” he whispered, moving his lips from her shoulder to the side of her throat.

 

END


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